


Endless, Does The Wheel Spin

by xytera



Category: Naruto
Genre: Captivity, M/M, Madara being super stubborn, Slow Romance, Some angst, Tobirama making friends with unlikely people, Unresolved Conflict, Working towards peace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-16 15:45:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5831374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xytera/pseuds/xytera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Senju and Uchiha rivalry draws to a close, Madara demands Hashirama’s death or Tobirama’s life. Tobirama makes his choice to become the Uchiha’s captive to ensure the alliance between the two clans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suspended Motion

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Takes place around chapters 624-625 during the time Hashirama tells of his past
> 
> Warnings: This will eventually be yaoi (Madara x Tobirama)
> 
> Credits to Kishimoto Masashi for the characters. The story is mine.

A hundred years, a thousand, a millennia; a bloody rivalry that knew no beginning nor end – or so it seemed.

How many times more must the tiny body of a child-turned-warrior fall to the cold steel of a sword? How much longer could one endure hatred and slaughter and vengeance before the mind rotted and the soul bled until there was nothing left but emptiness?

The future of two powerful shinobi clans viciously hacking away at each other until nothing could be salvaged seemed imminent. The seemingly endless cycle of death, however, came to a stuttering halt on the day the leaders of both clans led their weary soldiers, driven by the deaths of their loved ones, into the inevitable final clash between the Senju and the Uchiha.

The fierce battle lasted for a full day and night, from the crack of dawn to the sun rising in pink and orange hues of the next morning. The vast land held a silence that seemed unnatural after the cries of fallen warriors and unbridled rage had sounded almost ceaselessly. The clash had ended with Madara defeated, for the first time lying on his back on the hard, cracked dirt, vulnerable and completely surrounded by the Senju clan. His armor was broken, his body a bloody mess, his long, wild black hair spread like a midnight cape engulfing the darkness festering inside him. The Uchiha leader was a pitiful sight in contrast to the fearsome reputation he had gained with his ruthless power.

The surrounding area was devastated from the brutal skirmish, but for the first time, it was only a consequence of the past giving in to the seeds of the future, just barely sprouting through the blood-soaked earth. The rest of the Uchiha lay on the battlefield dead or dying along with many of the Senju clan. This time, however, it was clear who had won. There was no time to celebrate, but now – perhaps now, they could finally move on.

Tobirama lifted his sword, the weight familiar in his hand, positioning it above Madara's prone form. His older brother and leader of the Senju, Hashirama, crouched next to Madara. Hashirama's long brown locks shadowed the grave expression on his haggard face – an expression that Tobirama took for acceptance of his old friend's fate.

"Madara...this is the end," Tobirama told the Uchiha, his voice neither sneering nor triumphant but grim with finality. This would be a necessary act to end the pointless war between the two most powerful clans in the ravaged Land of Fire – the rivalry that no one could even recall its beginning. With the Uchihas subdued and their leader dead, Tobirama was certain of the chance for the future – the kind of future his older brother had always dreamed of.

"Wait, Tobirama."

Hashirama spoke just before Tobirama plunged the blade down and ended the bitter rivalry once and for all.

Surprised, both Madara and Tobirama stared at his brother. Why? They finally had a chance to bring forth the future of peace and a world where innocent children did not have to die in the spats between merciless adults. Why would his brother not take this golden opportunity?

"But why, brother? We can finally end this senseless war!" Tobirama voiced his thoughts, his voice coming harsher than he'd intended. He was exhausted from the battle, his mind filled with the blood of his comrades and enemies, the prospect of the future so close, but all suddenly coming to a startling halt because of his brother's words.

Without warning, his brother's dense chakra overwhelmed his senses, a deadly glare that Tobirama had not expected piercing through him. Chills of fear danced up Tobirama's spine upon being slammed with the very real aggression that brought the toughest warriors to their knees in terror.

"Touch _one_ hair on his body…" Hashirama growled, low and dangerous. "I _dare_ you…"

Tobirama was taken aback, shocked that he had suddenly become his own brother's enemy in the span of seconds and knowing that Hashirama would earnestly take him down if he tried to attack Madara. His brother's heavy chakra oppressed him, making him fall silent, the sure grip on the hilt of his sword loosening slightly in uncertainty. A sense of confusion and hurt warred with his logical thinking, and he felt almost betrayed. Hashirama's bond with Madara was greater than he'd ever imagined – though Tobirama knew that the bond was not reciprocated considering all of Madara's past actions. He slowly lowered the blade, knowing he would not dare to flame his brother's wrath.

Knowing he had submitted for now, Hashirama eased his chakra, leaving Tobirama with a sense of relief and slight bitterness. Tobirama pushed his conflicted feelings away. Now was not the time. These next few moments would be the ultimate deciding factor in the future or downfall of the Senju and Uchiha.

"Hmph…" Madara spoke up, his voice raspy and harsh as he clung to the last vestiges of his life. "You might as well...make it quick...Hashirama. If _you_ do it, I'll be satisfied."

Tobirama looked to his brother. Madara had given his permission – had accepted it without further fight. If Hashirama didn't take this opportunity…but Tobirama knew his brother too well. With this, peace would never be gained.

"It's no use acting tough," Hashirama lightly reprimanded, all deadly intent gone as if it had never been. "If we kill you, their leader, the young Uchiha that hold you dear will go on a rampage."

Of course, Tobirama had taken this into account. His brother might not be known for his intelligence, but he was not a complete idiot, either. The Uchiha still bent on vengeance could be easily taken care of, however, once their leader was gone. Many of the Uchiha had already surrendered, knowing the Senju's strength was superior.

"There's no one in the Uchiha who regard me like that anymore," Madara admitted, and perhaps Madara was correct – for now. Everyone, both the Senju and the Uchiha, were exhausted from a lifetime of warfare and the sorrow of lost comrades.

"No," Hashirama objected. "I'm sure there are. Can't we settle this like we used to? Just the two of us...?"

Tobirama gazed at his brother almost pityingly. They were no longer children who could settle a dispute with childish promises and silly play. Tobirama admired Hashirama's continued persistence in his adamancy to keep Madara as a friend, but reality was much harsher than his brother would ever admit to. They had the same dream, but they had gone down different paths. Madara could not be trusted. Still, it stung to know that Tobirama at his side was not enough to believe a peaceful village could exist. It was always Madara – it had _always_ been Madara…

"We're too different, we took different paths…" Madara spoke Tobirama's thoughts out loud. "I don't have any siblings left to protect...I can never trust you again…"

"How can I earn back your trust?" Hashirama asked quietly, desperation tinged in his tone.

Madara stared at Hashirama, and Tobirama was surprised to see the Uchiha's dark gaze slide to himself. Uneasiness coiled in Tobirama's gut, knowing that the Uchiha would make a ridiculous demand for this show of trust – something that likely involved either Hashirama's or Tobirama's deaths.

"If you want us to straighten things out…" Madara began, staring intently at Tobirama with fierce eyes as black as coal, "…then either kill yourself or...give me your brother. Then, we'll be even...then I will trust your clan."

To say Tobirama was stunned would have been an understatement. He had expected something like this, but…not this. Silence followed the declaration before the other Senjus spoke up in outrage.

"To commit suicide or voluntarily give you a hostage? What the hell are you saying, you–"

The shock had worn off Hashirama more quickly than it had with Tobirama. Hashirama raised a hand to quiet the infuriated Senju, appearing all too calm for such insanity. Tobirama quickly regained his senses and looked at his brother, who was looking at Madara with an indecipherable expression.

"That man is mad!" Tobirama declared, suddenly very afraid – not for his own life, but for his brother's because he _knew_ Hashirama better than anyone. "What do you plan to do, brother? Are you going to going to give me to him? Or do you want to die to follow this madman's nonsense? How foolish...don't listen to him, brother!"

Madara slid his gaze back to Hashirama, awaiting an answer. To everyone's surprise, Hashirama smiled. It was neither sad nor joyful, but one of utter acceptance. It punched Tobirama right in the gut, because Tobirama had already known Hashirama's decision as soon as the blasted Uchiha had spouted his demands.

"Thank you, Madara," Hashirama said as he stood up and began to undo his armor. "Indeed, you're a sympathetic person."

The armor fell to the ground heavily, the thunk and clatter of metal on the hard ground somehow final. Hashirama pulled out a kunai from his weapon pouch and gazed solemnly at Tobirama's frozen form.

"Listen to me, Tobirama. These will be my last words," Hashirama said somberly. "Engrave them in your heart, for these are the words I will be exchanging my life for. Everyone in our clan should do the same. After my death, do not kill Madara. The Uchiha and Senju must never shed blood between each other again. Vow it upon on the names of your fathers and unborn young."

Tobirama's heart stuttered in terror. _No—_

"Farewell."

Hashirama smiled brilliantly one last time as a single tear formed in the corner of his eye, the other Senjus too dumbfounded to think to move, as Hashirama began to plunge the razor-sharp point of the deadly kunai into his stomach. Tobirama was not known as the fastest shinobi in the world for nothing – he moved before his thoughts could completely form, snatching his brother's wrist millimeters before he could gut himself.

"Stop!" he shouted, voice echoing in the vast land and snapping everyone's attention to him. "I will do it! I will go with the Uchiha, brother."

Hashirama stared at him with wide brown eyes, stunned both because of Tobirama's actions and from what he had likely believed would be his last moments in the living world.

"Tobi…" Hashirama began, but Tobirama yanked the kunai from his hand in a swift movement and threw it far into the battle-torn landscape.

Ignoring Hashirama for the moment now that there was no chance of his brother trying to kill himself, Tobirama turned and glared down at the surprised Uchiha leader, fist trembling with the deathly tight grip on the hilt of his sword, his desire to slay the Uchiha leader so great. He could do it, he could kill Madara now with no remorse – but…Hashirama would never forgive him, and his dream would be lost. Tobirama hated to admit it, but there was no other choice if his brother was willing to throw away his life for something like this. For the sake of his brother and his brother's dream that included someone as despicable as Madara, Tobirama's own life held little importance. Tobirama knew that it would be Hashirama who could make his dream become a reality. Without Hashirama, the seemingly endless cycle of unbearable death and hatred would creak back to life after this stuttering halt. Hashirama must live no matter what.

Decision made and resolve unwavering, Tobirama loosened his grip, the sword clattering to the ground.

"I will go with you," Tobirama repeated, this time in a more controlled tone as his heart rate gradually decelerated and his thoughts reformed into more logical ones. The rash decision he had made at witnessing his brother's near suicide had been impulsive and unplanned, but he was rationalizing it now and knew it was the better option no matter how much he wished to believe otherwise.

"But Tobirama–" Hashirama started, obviously trying to catch up to the present events.

"Quiet, brother!" Tobirama barked, not intending to be harsh but still angry and terrified at his brother's foolishness just moments before. If he'd been a second later, he'd have lost his only remaining brother, and not only that, he admittedly would not have kept his brother's last wishes. He would have killed Madara without a thought and plunged his brother's dreams straight down the drain.

"You…" Madara said, bringing back Tobirama's attention. "Why would you do this?"

Tobirama looked down at Madara with barely disguised loathing, eyes narrowing. "You asked for this, did you not?"

Madara considered him intently but did not respond. Hashirama looked from Tobirama to Madara in bewilderment, clearly not understanding the deeper meaning behind Madara's demands. Tobirama, however, was perceptive enough to understand Madara's intentions with this ridiculous yet devious demand. Allowing Tobirama to live as the Uchiha's captive would weigh heavily upon Hashirama's conscience – providing an easy weakness that would allow Madara to control Hashirama as he wished if they ever became allies or even if they remained enemies. It seemed Madara had become the renowned leader of the Uchiha for a reason, Tobirama grudgingly admitted, but if it would end the pointless deaths, then he was willing to do it.

Still, there were the options to commit suicide himself or to end Madara at this very moment. Tobirama knew his own death now would only cause more dissent between the two clans considering that the Senju behind him had moved to slay Madara after what seemed like Hashirama's near suicide. Killing Madara seemed to be the better option, but…it would have to wait until the Uchiha and the Senju had established strong ties and the Uchiha cut off their radical leader for good. Then, and only then, would Tobirama personally exterminate the vengeance-filled Uchiha leader and allow the future to finally prosper.

"Do you agree to the alliance, then?" Tobirama asked Madara with utter coldness in his gaze despite his calm tone.

Madara stared at him for a long minute before his eyes slowly closed.

"Yes."


	2. Sealed Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I was notified that one of my stories has been stolen and posted on Wattpad. The thief claimed s/he wrote the story and altered the title. Reporting it requires that I give personal info that I'm not comfortable giving. To be honest, this isn't the first time this has happened. It really made me unmotivated to write, so I deleted my stories and account and did not write for a long while. I thought I'd try writing again and this happens again...
> 
> Well, this is what I have for this story at least. I hope you enjoy it, as I don't know when I'll be updating again.
> 
> Credits to Kishimoto Masashi for the characters. The story is mine.

It had been six months since the village had been established and built within the vast forest-covered lands. Six months of tentative peace and battle-weary clans seeking to ally themselves with the recently founded village. Six months of growing prosperity and hope as the Land of Fire joined hands with the new but powerful shinobi village.

Six months of restlessness for Tobirama.

Tobirama was glad for the peace, but he hated his role. He should be at Hashirama's side, helping to negotiate with clans and the Land of Fire's representatives, overseeing the village being built – _not_ sitting idly like a little civilian housewife in a hidden compound miles away from the village.

Tobirama had yet to even _see_ the village for himself. He had only heard snippets of the flourishing village from the idle gossip among the Uchiha guards who he knew would rather be in the village than sitting on their asses guarding _him_.

The compound was not bad itself and he had free reign anywhere inside, but Tobirama hated it. He was nothing more than a prisoner surrounded by Uchihas and the Uchiha symbol plastered everywhere in sight.

The surrounding walls were fortified with numerous seals creating a strong barrier to ensure he could not escape. The seals also kept out any prying eyes, distorting the space and time around the area. Despite the tall concrete prison-like walls, the inside was rather luxurious. There was a large courtyard with a lovely garden and koi pond with a small bridge to view the fish in the crystal clear water. The large main building was Tobirama's living quarters. A smaller structure to the side was the kitchens, and near it were the guards' and servants' quarters. The outhouse stood in an isolated corner, surrounded by a sprinkling of trees for privacy. The entire compound was built to match the elegant traditional style of the Uchiha. There were servants to cater to his every need, but guards were always close by. The Uchiha symbol painted in every open wall space seemed to be obnoxiously placed to mock him – no doubt Madara's intention.

Tobirama was not used to luxury. He had been born into war, living in blood, sweat, and dirt, fathoming the harshness of life and the limited necessities needed to survive since he'd been a child. Even the Senju compound had been more military-like than the Uchiha's uselessly grand buildings and elegant structures. The sudden shift into luxury had been disorienting at first. Shed of his battle armor, weapons, and access to the outside world made him uneasy, and especially because all of the guards and servants were Uchihas.

Only six months ago, the Uchiha and the Senju had been bitter rivals. The servants and guards knew about his reputation and his conquests over countless Uchiha deaths – likely friends and family lost by his own hands. Tobirama had seen some glares of hatred and distrust, but he ignored them. He did not eat anything the servants served or accept their services. In the first few weeks of his life here, the servants had learned that they were only needed to clean the large main building that Tobirama rarely used and tidy the gardens that he frequented.

The days were long and boring, and the passive-aggressive glares were growing tiresome. There was nothing to do here. The gardens were the only place to go aside from the main building. He cooked simple meals for himself and took care of his few needs. His chakra usage was limited, as Madara had demanded it to be sealed. He was not completely cut off from accessing his chakra, but the bountiful chakra the Senju were known for was mostly sealed off with the inked seals encircling his wrists and ankles – seals that were directly linked to Madara himself as the ink had been mixed with the Uchiha leader's blood. A matching seal on Madara's wrist allowed the Uchiha leader to use his own dark chakra to suppress Tobirama's whenever he pleased. Tobirama was limited to using just below an average shinobi's chakra range, much to his displeasure.

He had not seen Hashirama since the negotiations regarding his "imprisonment" six months ago. He had, unfortunately, seen Madara more than he wished to.

The ones who had witnessed the scene between the two Senju brothers and Madara had all been sworn into secrecy about the negotiations and Tobirama's fate. Upon Hashirama's insistence, Madara had allowed him to visit Tobirama once every six months just so Hashirama could see if Tobirama was being taken care of. How humiliating it had been, being treated like a lowly prisoner as his life had been negotiated back and forth.

Still, Tobirama was looking forward to tomorrow. He would be seeing his older brother after six long months. Tobirama had never been separated from Hashirama for more than a few days at a time since the day he had been born. Even then, Hashirama had always been close enough for Tobirama to sense his distinctive chakra signature. It had been unnerving to realize just how lonely he was without Hashirama's upbeat and silly personality to allay his own grimmer one. He wondered how the village affairs were going in both his brother's and Madara's hands. While he respected his brother's accomplishments, Hashirama was far too optimistic to be a competent politician even if he was a natural-born leader. Hashirama could gain alliances and comrades through his unique personality and impressive ideals, but he was much too idealistic to handle and negotiate integral village affairs and internal needs. It must be Madara who dealt with the more complicated matters. Tobirama couldn't be sure of the actual goings-ons in the village without seeing for himself what kinds of rules and regulations the Uchiha had imposed.

Speaking of the Uchiha, an unmistakable chakra entering the compound caught Tobirama's attention. Any chakra outside the compound was distorted by the seals, but Tobirama's sensing abilities were far better than anyone besides Hashirama and his clan members knew. It only took a little more concentration than normal to smooth out the distorted chakras that came near the compound and recognize them, but it was definitely an effort to concentrate on faint chakra signatures a distance away. Still, it was vexing when he normally would be able to lock onto any chakra signature in the Land of Fire and beyond with little effort.

Casually perched in one of the taller trees in the compound, Tobirama didn't move from his spot as he sensed Madara making his way inside. The Uchiha leader came to the compound on an irregular basis. Tobirama closed his eyes, knowing that he would eventually arrive in the courtyard.

"Tobirama."

As expected, a few minutes later, Madara stood upon the bridge over the pond. Tobirama did not acknowledge him right away, only the slight frown pulling at the edges of his mouth giving away his irritation at the unwelcome presence. He smoothed out his expression and slowly opened his eyes to see the Uchiha clad in black standing like a dark shadow in the evening light. The man's dark chakra pulsed like a barely-chained feral beast beneath his skin, sending chills dancing across Tobirama's flesh. Madara was undoubtedly one of the most powerful shinobi in the world – second only to Hashirama. Tobirama knew he could put up a decent fight if needed, but winning would be an entirely different matter. His senses were all on high alert at the potential danger before him, but coolly assessing the situation at hand had always been one of his greatest strengths.

There was no way Tobirama would put the newly formed village at risk, so he sat up and dropped into a smooth crouch on the grass. He could sense the guards standing at attention, watching him closely for any sudden movements. Slowly, Tobirama straightened and stared emotionlessly at the Uchiha leader. Madara stared back just as impassively before turning away.

"Come," he said, and Tobirama resented that he had to follow after the man like an obedient dog.

They slipped off their sandals and entered the main building. The spacious room they entered provided a pleasant view of the gardens through wood-framed paper sliding doors. Madara sat at the low table placed on clean tatami mats, and an Uchiha maid immediately brought in hot tea. She left quickly after setting the teapot and two cups on the table with a little plate of dry snacks. Tobirama remained in the doorway, the pleasant sounds of the gardens and the cool night air beckoning behind him. He didn't move.

"Sit down," Madara instructed.

Tobirama did so stoically without showing his reluctance at obeying the order. This was a dangerous game between them, one that Tobirama allowed Madara to win without a fight. Tobirama would be obedient so long as Madara kept within the boundaries of the game – keeping the village safe and the allied clans settled. Both of them knew that if he truly wished to, Tobirama could take down the guards even with the chakra limiting seals and manage a crafty escape. Madara being able to suppress his chakra with their linked seals did pose an issue, but Tobirama was certain he could work around it with various well-planned strategies.

Taking the cast iron teapot, Tobirama poured the lightly steaming tea into the clay cups. The warm scent wafting upwards was pleasant, and the atmosphere falsely serene. He set one in front of Madara and placed one in front of himself. Serving Madara was another part of the game, one which seemed to amuse the Uchiha as he watched.

Tobirama never drank the tea.

Madara picked up the cup in his gloved hand, lightly swirling it. He placed the cup back down. Madara never drank it when Tobirama poured it for him.

"How is brother?" Tobirama asked, falling into their ritual of mild pleasant talk to assuage the other's unreadable moods and intentions.

"You'll see tomorrow," Madara replied.

"The village?" Tobirama asked blandly, though he really was quite interested in hearing about the newly formed Konoha.

"Growing. Prospering," Madara said shortly, appearing to enjoy the slight twitch of annoyance of Tobirama's mouth if the small smirk on his features said anything. He, too, knew that Tobirama's deprivation of information and lack of contact with his brother was drawing on him. Tobirama's unresponsiveness to his jabs and play of dominance seemed to annoy Madara, but the man appeared to gain some sadistic enjoyment whenever he managed to gain a response no matter how little.

Tobirama fell silent, unwilling to beg for information. He kept his face carefully neutral as he mulled over his own thoughts and pushed the Uchiha out of them, though he was keenly aware of the other man. Madara would not attack him as long as the alliance was secure, but six months was not long enough to put away the instinctive distrust of his former enemies that had been molded over a lifetime.

That aside, the Uchiha's staring was becoming annoying. After several minutes, Tobirama swept a sharp glare at Madara.

"What?" he said.

"You look nothing like your brother," Madara said abruptly, surprising Tobirama. "Complete opposites...I wouldn't have thought you two were brothers if I hadn't already known."

Tobirama's brows drew together. What was he getting at? It wasn't as if Tobirama didn't know himself. He knew that he and Hashirama were complete opposites. Anyone with eyes could tell. Aside from that, Madara had never seemed inclined to start a normal conversation with him during these months of imprisonment, nor had Madara looked at him so long as he had just done now. Uncertain of the intentions of the comment or piercing stare, Tobirama merely looked at Madara suspiciously.

"Your coloring is the opposite of the Uchihas as well," Madara continued, looking pointedly at the silvery spikes of Tobirama's hair. "Though your eyes are as red as the Sharingan…"

Tobirama did not know what Madara was getting at, but it was off-putting to be compared to the Uchihas. Tobirama personally had nothing against the clan itself, but years of war had made him consider anyone potential enemies. The Uchiha had always been the most dangerous. Even with peace at hand, they still were. He glared at Madara.

"What's your point?" he asked bluntly.

Madara merely smirked. "An albino, is that what they call it?"

Tobirama did not reply right away, staring at the Uchiha as if he were mad.

"You look like a rabbit," Madara suddenly said.

Tobirama blinked. A what now?

"An albino rabbit," Madara said, the mocking smirk widening.

Tobirama twitched, knowing he was being made fun of. He had never thought too much on his own coloring before, simply regarding it as a hindrance when his light hair and fair skin stood out when he had been on covert missions. He'd been called a ghost before, when he'd surprised clan members with his silent entrances; a red-eyed demon from his enemies as he was about to slay them; he'd even been accused of being inhuman when he ruthlessly executed coldly methodological experiments and plans that would ensure his clan members would live another day. None of these had ever bothered him before. A rabbit, though? A prey among preys – that was definitely an insult.

"If that's all you want to say, then I'll be going," Tobirama said, preparing to stand. He would not rise to Madara's bait, no matter how many times the Uchiha leader returned to the compound.

Madara did not stop him as he returned back to the courtyard. Tobirama felt those dark eyes boring into his back until he vanished from the Uchiha's sight within the foliage.

It irked him to no end that the Uchiha only came here to assert his authority over him. He knew Madara hated him – after all, he had been the one to strike the fatal blow that had led to Madara's precious younger brother's death. Madara likely wouldn't care either way if Tobirama died, but it was beginning to become tiresome after one too many insults.

Tobirama couldn't wait for the day he could end Madara's life and be free of this suffocating prison.

-~~o0O0o~~-

"Tobirama!"

Upon seeing his older brother, Tobirama allowed a rare, soft smile that just barely curved his lips. His mood was greatly improved, having anticipated his brother's visit for the last six months. The uplifting feeling at seeing his brother was not even hampered by Madara's presence or the Uchiha guards.

Dressed in the traditional Senju robes and hakama, Hashirama strode towards him, long brown hair flowing in the gentle breeze through the open gates. It was good to see Hashirama without his worn battle armor on. The air around Hashirama seemed more relaxed, the tired lines around his eyes less noticeable. Yet Tobirama still noticed his brother's normally bright chakra signature seemed to be weighed down, as if Hashirama was more stressed than he was letting on.

"It's good to see you, brother," Tobirama said just before Hashirama enveloped him in a tight hug.

Affectionate gestures like this were not that common between the two since Tobirama normally didn't partake in exuberant displays of affection, but he accepted it without protest and lifted his own arms to hug back. Hashirama's embrace was warm and strong, a little tight, but welcomed. There was a sigh that brushed against Tobirama's ear, one that sounded like relief.

"I've missed you, Tobirama," Hashirama confessed, pulling back a bit to gaze at Tobirama with a puppy-ish expression of sadness.

Tobirama did not reply verbally, the subtle affection in his eyes unseen by the Uchihas relaying the same sentiment. Hashirama could not stop his beam, lightening upon seeing Tobirama's stern features soften.

"Are you doing well, brother?" Tobirama asked as he stepped back from the embrace, but not before his wrist was caught in his brother's grasp. Hashirama's thumb rubbed softly against the inked seals on his wrist, a pained look in his features. Tobirama smoothly pulled away from his brother's hold.

"Brother?" Tobirama prompted.

Hashirama blinked, eyes dragging away from the seals.

"Ah...I'm fine. And you? How is life here? It looks very comfortable," Hashirama said as he surveyed the large main building and the courtyard garden beyond that. Hashirama had never seen the compound before, having been busy building the village while the compound had been built.

Aware of Madara's sharp eyes on him, Tobirama answered vaguely, "It's comfortable enough."

Before Hashirama could ask more, Tobirama directed him towards the gardens. The guards kept a certain distance out of sight, but Tobirama was keenly aware of each individual in the compound. Madara sat in the open living area of the main building that viewed the gardens where they had conversed shortly last night. An Uchiha maid served him tea, which he sipped and appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. Tobirama knew that he was observing them, however – another condition that Madara would be present at every visit.

"Tell me about the village, brother," he said to distract from being asked anymore questions he wouldn't be able to answer honestly.

"Ah, of course! You won't believe it, but the village has become so big. There are so many different clans living together. Children can play in the streets without fear," Hashirama said exuberantly before his voice turned wistful. "It's beautiful, Tobirama. I wish you could see it."

"I do, too, brother," Tobirama said quietly.

Hashirama gazed at Tobirama, a helpless, guilty expression giving him the face of a ten-year-old boy who had done something he shouldn't have. Tobirama noticed and stopped, about to speak until Hashirama spoke first instead.

"I–" Hashirama swallowed. "If things could be different, I would prefer if you were at my side..."

Tobirama gazed at his brother for a second longer before turning away and resuming their walk.

"There is no point dwelling on the past, brother. The future is more important," Tobirama said despite his own wishes and his hatred of the prison he had willingly gone to. He did not blame his brother for his big heart and utopian ideals. It was his own fault for being too weak and too late to get out of this situation.

"Tobirama..." Hashirama trailed off before following after Tobirama to where they paused over the koi pond bridge.

"Tell me more about the village. What clans have joined? How did the negotiations with the Land of Fire proceed?" Tobirama asked, knowing that the change of topic would remove the depressed look on his brother's face.

Hashirama's face brightened at the questions, eager to tell of every happening in the village. Tobirama listened attentively to every word while Hashirama excitedly boasted of how the village was doing extremely well. Multiple clans had allied themselves with the village, even well-known clans like the Sarutobi and Shimura who would undoubtedly be an asset to the village. The unfortunate side was that Madara was handling most of the political affairs while Hashirama helped build the village with his reliable wood jutsu and calmed tensions between clans, but Tobirama could concede that Madara was doing it well with the intentions to keep the peace. Still, Tobirama would have preferred to be at the meetings himself.

"You should see the children, Tobirama," Hashirama said, eyes soft as he gazed in the direction of the village. "They play together, all different clans, without prejudice. They don't have to worry about war or fighting."

Tobirama listened contentedly. Hashirama had always been the talker between the two of them, having more than enough to say for both of them. Even if he wanted to see the village for himself, he was pleased to see the vibrancy in his brother's face and the animated movements as Hashirama spoke. It had been far too long since he'd seen Hashirama look so enlivened. For now, it was enough.

It was nearly evening when Madara decided to interrupt. Surprised, Tobirama noticed that the day had flown by. The sun was already beginning to set, which meant Hashirama would have to return soon. Hashirama seemed to realize this as well, disappointment clear in his features.

The Uchiha servants had set up an extravagant gourmet meal in the living area where they could view the gardens in the evening light through the open sliding doors. Tobirama glared briefly at Madara. No doubt the servants had told Madara that Tobirama didn't bother eating their meals or drink their tea. Normally he wouldn't have taken a single crumb, but with Hashirama here, it would be difficult to explain why he wouldn't eat, and especially because they had forgone lunch.

Sitting at the low table, Hashirama beamed happily while Madara looked bored and Tobirama stone-faced. The mix of auras clashed horribly, but Hashirama was completely oblivious. The food certainly _looked_ appetizing, but Tobirama merely looked down distastefully at the feast.

"Thank you for the meal," Hashirama said and dug right in.

Tobirama inwardly rolled his eyes at his brother for lacking any suspicion against the Uchiha. Then again, Hashirama had always seemed to trust Madara wholeheartedly even when they were in the midst of battle. Madara also began to eat while Tobirama debated his next actions.

"Why aren't you eating, Tobirama? The food is delicious," Hashirama said when he noticed Tobirama sitting like a statue.

Tobirama noticed Madara eyeing him, amusement plain in his eyes despite the neutral look on his face. Tobirama's jaw twitched.

"I'm not hungry," Tobirama smoothly lied. He _was_ hungry, but not hungry enough to become Madara's amusement with his brother present. Tobirama could hold off. During war, food rations had often been low or nonexistent, and he'd learned to cope with an empty stomach for days on end while on covert missions far from the Senju compound.

"But we didn't eat lunch," Hashirama pointed out unhelpfully.

"I had a big breakfast," Tobirama said curtly, crossing his arms and turning his head towards the gardens.

"Tobirama, you should eat. It's not good to miss a meal," Hashirama insisted.

"I'm fine, brother. It's not the first time," Tobirama said dismissively, clearly referring to their days of hunger and war.

"But it's different now...Madara had this all prepared for us. It would be rude to not eat," Hashirama claimed.

At the mention of the Uchiha bastard, Tobirama narrowed his eyes. It wasn't even that Tobirama believed the food to be poisoned – it was simply that he _refused_ to eat anything made by the Uchiha. Madara expected Tobirama to behave like an obedient dog, and Tobirama had accepted this to an extent, but he would not feed out of his captor's hands and live a false life of luxury like a tamed pet. It was a small rebellion on his part where he had no freedom over the rest of his life. He still had his pride.

"It's alright, Hashirama. Tobirama does not need to eat if he does not wish to," Madara put in mildly.

Tobirama cast a suspicious glare at Madara, but Madara merely picked up some rice with his chopsticks and popped it nonchalantly into his mouth. Hashirama only looked confused.

"But..." he tried.

"Be quiet and eat your dinner, brother," Tobirama ordered, now quite annoyed.

Hashirama immediately shut up though he pouted. Dinner resumed while Tobirama gazed out into the courtyard. Hashirama soon regained his lively demeanor as he praised the delicious meal and spoke more of the village. Despite his stoic exterior, Tobirama regretted speaking so harshly to his brother. It was not Hashirama he was annoyed with, but himself. After this, he would not see Hashirama again for another half year. He did not want to leave on bad terms – not when the only thing he could look forward to was his brother's visits. He wanted to make amends, but not with that bastard Uchiha present.

Dinner ended with the moon glowing high in the dark skies. While the servants cleaned up, Tobirama led Hashirama to the sealed gates. Madara stood a short distance away, providing them with a false sense of privacy.

"Tobirama..." Hashirama said, looking pained.

"Take care of the village. If it's you, then it will be fine," Tobirama said.

Hashirama stared at Tobirama, clearly reluctant to leave.

"It's different without you there," Hashirama suddenly admitted. "I'm sorry, Tobirama, for putting you through this. It's my fault that you're stuck here."

"It's not your fault, brother," Tobirama denied. "It was my choice and no one else's."

Tobirama definitely laid blame on Madara, but no matter how much he wanted to reveal his frustrations, he would never do it. Madara, at the moment, was vital for the alliance to work. Tobirama knew that the Uchiha were split between Hashirama and Madara. There still had not been enough time to establish strong ties. If Madara decided to break the alliance, then war would undoubtedly erupt once more. Now, it was simply a waiting game – one that Tobirama could wait out patiently until it was the perfect time to strike.

"I'll do something about it. I'll talk to Madara, again," Hashirama decided.

Tobirama mused over this idea. Hashirama had a way with people – he'd even managed to persuade someone as irrational as Madara to form an alliance. Plus, it could make for some benefits.

"Do what you want, but the village comes before me," Tobirama said sternly.

Hashirama nodded solemnly. "Don't worry, Tobirama. I'll take care of it."

Crossing his arms, Tobirama watched as the sealed gates were opened by the guards. Hashirama lingered, obviously not wanting to leave. The temptation was there as the lush forest stood enticingly just before him. His body yearned to leap agilely through the branches and feel the wind in his face and open freedom, but he held himself back with steely resolve. It was not yet time.

"Go," Tobirama said, but not ungently. "You have a village to provide for and protect, brother."

Hashirama looked as if he wanted to say more, but Tobirama would not allow him to. Hashirama could not waver now, not when peace was finally in their hands.

"Do not worry about me, brother. You are needed at the village. I can take care of myself," Tobirama said, understanding his brother's concerns. If anything, Hashirama knew that Tobirama was a capable shinobi.

"...Alright," Hashirama finally said with great reluctance and turned to Madara. "Are you coming?"

"No," Madara replied. "I will join you later."

Hashirama nodded trustingly. Tobirama watched silently as his brother finally turned and exited the gates. The gates were quick to close as if the Uchihas feared he would make a run for it. They slammed shut, Hashirama looking back forlornly before Tobirama was left caged in once more with a half-tamed beast at his back.


	3. Betwixt and Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks so much for the support on Endless! It really uplifted my spirits, and I decided that you are all right. No matter if someone steals my work, as long as I have the support and knowledge that the story is mine, then I will continue to do what I love. Thanks again everyone!
> 
> Some notes for this chapter, none of the Uchiha in this story are OCs. They have all made appearances in either the manga or anime. You can check naruto.wikia to check them out.
> 
> Credits to Kishimoto Masashi for the characters. The story is mine.

 

The days following Hashirama’s visit were unfulfilling. There was little to do in the compound, and Tobirama was becoming bored out of his mind.

He hated being idle. Madara had not allowed him any weapons, so he kept his body primed through katas. There were scrolls he could read, but only a few that he’d finished within the first week of being imprisoned here. He busied his restless thoughts with thinking up new jutsus or refining the ones he’d already created, and when he grew bored of that, he resorted to long sessions of meditation in the garden, honing his senses to feel the outside world beyond the distorting wards created by the seals. This was quickly becoming one of the most interesting things to do in the compound.

He could sense faint traces of many people to the west where the village was located probably a couple hundred kilometers away. It didn’t take much effort to feel his brother’s chakra shining brightly above all of the villagers’. It was a comfort, knowing where his brother was at all times. He even recognized various other chakras in the village – many of those he recalled in the middle of a bloody battlefield while at war. It seemed the Inuzuka were the newest addition to the village. He recognized that rough, feral chakra anywhere. Some individual chakras he put faces to – allies he had fought with and even foes he had once battled.

Even with just sensing chakras, Tobirama was able to discern a bit of the goings-on in the village. Children, whose chakras were still soft and untrained, frequently gathered in the eastern side of the village. A playground, perhaps? A school? When they were children and Hashirama talked of the village that did not exist yet, they had come up with various ideas. At the time, Tobirama had done it more to indulge in his brother’s seemingly fanciful ideas, but as it had started becoming more of a reality, he had solidified his childish ideas into more concrete ones. Tobirama had suggested a school for children, both for civilians and shinobi alike, and Hashirama had of course eagerly agreed. His youngest brother, Itama, had wanted a playground, a place children could play without fear. Itama had always been the softest of the four, a skilled shinobi but gentle and emotional nonetheless. They had thought up ideas for hours on the giant tree stump that had been their designated meeting place until their father called them to war once more.

The random clash of adult chakras that were finely honed in the southern side of the village suggested a training ground had been assigned. If his second younger brother Kawarama had been alive, he would have suggested it, having loved to spar with other young Senju warriors as his favorite pastime. Kawarama had been a child blessed with extraordinary combat abilities, but his premature death at seven-years-old hadn’t given him the time to gain experience and explore the extent of his skills…

Tobirama did not linger on the thoughts of his brothers for long. He concentrated his sensing chakra once more, eyes closed and body loose with the sereneness of meditation. There was a large gathering of chakra signatures during the days in the northern part of the village. A market, perhaps. Scenarios of the village infrastructure and configurations filled Tobirama’s head while he gave himself a new task to learn each and every single chakra signature in the village.

It would take some time, he knew, since using his sensing chakra so far out quickly became tiring with the seals on his chakra. If he forced too much, the seals would start to burn and skew whatever chakra he’d been using. He could memorize at least fifteen to twenty chakra signatures a day before his currently limited chakra ran out. No, perhaps only ten at the most considering how much time and chakra it took to smooth out the distorting seals at the edges of the compound and memorize individual chakra signatures that were unique to every person. Each clan had distinctive and recognizable chakra signatures, but separating each individual within a clan would take time to commit to memory. It would take several weeks to do, which would at least give him something to look forward to.

Snippets of conversation he caught between the guards solidified his guesses and scenarios. The guards traded duties every three weeks with the small number of other Uchiha in the village who were aware of his situation. It eased his boredom to imagine what the village looked like, how different clans interacted, anything to keep him occupied when he wasn’t plotting Uchiha Madara’s demise. The Uchiha talked of various things when they didn’t think Tobirama was listening – their personal lives sometimes, women or men they fancied, clans who they had never thought they would be allied with, the peculiarity of other clans, past war stories, and other such things that caught his interest. Guard duty was always boring. Who liked to sit and watch someone meditating for hours? Tobirama knew each and every single guard’s and servant’s names, their detailed chakra signatures, and at least one piece of personal information about them. Information gathering had always been one of his fortes, but they made it far too easy blabbing away within ear reach…and not to mention Tobirama had _very_ good hearing from distances away, as would any competently trained shinobi.

Always before his chakra ran out, he returned to his brother’s familiar chakra. Hashirama had left the country twice since the founding of the village. Tobirama suspected Hashirama had traveled to other countries for negotiations and treaties. His chakra signature had become dimmer the further he went, but even a country away, Tobirama could still sense Hashirama if he concentrated hard enough. If the seals didn’t distort his senses, Tobirama would have been able to make out even more details, but alas, Madara had made sure to make his life as miserable as possible.

Speaking of Madara, the man had come to the compound twice more. It had been about two weeks since Hashirama’s first visit. Even though Tobirama wanted to disregard Madara, it was impossible to ignore such a dark and overpowering chakra signature. It constantly nagged at his senses whenever he meditated, like an annoying insect at the edges of his vision. Every alarm bell went off, warning him of danger whenever he sensed that oppressive chakra. It was like a crouched predator, silently awaiting for its prey to lower its guard before pouncing with lethal consequences.

Both visits Madara had not even looked at him, merely speaking with the guards and servants. It mattered little to Tobirama. The less he had to interact with Madara, the better. Even now, as much as he didn’t wish to, his senses instinctively sought out the danger – which was often by Hashirama’s side, he might add, wanting to smack his brother upside the head for his foolishness – observing the silently burning chakra for any signs of aggression. As per usual, it was hard to discern anything with the inhibiting seals, but it mattered not. Madara was a threat to the village so long as he clung to his hate…

Slowly opening his eyes as the last remaining chakra he could use for sensing ran out, Tobirama gazed at the gardens, noticing a small blue butterfly with black-tipped wings flutter about the tiny white flowers scattered about the grass where he sat in the lotus position. The butterfly lazily fluttered towards him, landing occasionally on a flower before it seemed to pause curiously above his knee. It landed a moment later, iridescent wings catching the sunlight, turning into a magnificent cerulean hue as it perched on his knee. Tobirama noticed a spot of yellow pollen where the butterfly had landed. He must have brushed against a flower when he’d sat down earlier. He watched the insect lap at the pollen with its curled proboscis in mild interest, effortlessly keeping still as to not disturb it.

Several minutes later, footsteps approached from behind, purposely made considering any decent shinobi could mask the sounds. The butterfly fluttered away at the other presence. Tobirama watched it disappear behind the bushes and scattering of slim trees.

“Senju.”

His clan name was spat in a way that made him inwardly sigh. So it had finally come to this. He had expected it ever since the beginnings of the spiteful looks. It certainly had taken quite some time before they had gained enough courage to come at him directly instead of glare from a distance away.

Turning his head, he calmly gazed up at none other than Uchiha Yakumi. He wore the typical Uchiha garb of a high-collared shirt and black attire. His dark hair was pulled in an elaborate topknot reminiscent of his surly cousin Tōka (who had nearly strangled Hashirama after she’d found out about the conditions for the peace treaty). Pronounced tear troughs framed beneath his almond-shaped black eyes which were currently glaring at him. This Uchiha had glowered at him the most whenever he was assigned to the compound.

Behind the bristling Uchiha, three other Uchiha guards stood a short distance away, looking to and fro from Tobirama and Yakumi. Uchiha Tekka, the youngest guard, watched silently but with a slightly concerned look on his face. Next to him was Uchiha Yashiro, with ash-grey hair despite only looking to be in his forties, looking at them with his squinted eyes and a tense expression. Lastly was Uchiha Inabi, who was twenty-five as Tobirama recalled him complaining purposely loudly near Tobirama about having to do guard duty on his birthday, his narrow face framed by his long black hair and small eyes glaring at Tobirama with barely disguised dislike.

“What do you want?” Tobirama said as he smoothly stood to his full height and turned, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew he made an imposing sight with his nearly six foot height, marked face, and unnerving slanted red eyes even while dressed in casual clothes without his armor for effect. All four men were only a few inches shorter than him, but height had little meaning other than for intimidation in this situation.

Yakumi wavered for a second before standing his ground. Impressive, but Tobirama could detect the hint of hesitation and fear in the man’s chakra. There was a charged silence as they regarded each other appraisingly. The Sharingan flickered from red to black like a rattlesnake warning of its threat. Tobirama had battled enough Uchiha throughout his life to skillfully keep his eyes locked on his opponent’s face without meeting eyes.

“You Senju,” Yakumi snarled. “If this farce of a treaty wasn’t made—“

“Yakumi,” Tekka called out. He was normally quiet and reserved throughout the time he’d guarded the compound, hardly ever speaking a word, but his concern showed through as he took a step towards them. Yashiro put a hand on Tekka’s shoulder stopping him in his tracks. Tekka looked at Yashiro apprehensively, but the older man shook his head.

Yakumi took a breath, visibly trying to calm himself. Tobirama remained unmoved, assessing gaze picking up every detail to the way Yakumi’s hands clenched into tight fists and how the other three Uchiha’s hand lingered closely to their robes for a hidden weapon, bodies tense in response to the very real threat of a clash breaking out.

Even outnumbered, unarmed and with most of his chakra sealed, Tobirama was the most dangerous thing within the compound. All of the Uchiha within knew it. What they didn’t know, however, was that he was very limited in chakra at the moment considering he’d been chakra viewing the village. That, however, meant little to nothing considering his bare hands could be used as lethal weapons, and his speed was unmatched even without the usage of hiraishin. He could sense the four other guards and several servants moving quickly towards the spike of aggression from one of their fellow clan members. He never looked away from Yakumi’s face.

“You know as well as I that this peace treaty will not last,” Yakumi said in a more controlled tone. His fists relaxed slightly from their clench. It was clear these thoughts had been brewing in the Uchiha’s mind since the village’s founding. “The Uchiha and the Senju have been enemies of old. How can we live with the very ones who have killed our families and comrades? Sooner or later, this farce will crumble. You, of all Senju, should know that. After all, you hate the Uchiha and have slaughtered more Uchiha than any other.”

“Do not think you know my thoughts,” Tobirama said icily. “Or that the Senju have not suffered the same as the Uchiha.”

There was a difference between Tobirama and these men who were willing to fight him in the name of their clan. The difference not only in power, but also that Tobirama did not only fight for his clan. In a world where clans were the epicenter and boundaries of all shinobi, Tobirama understood the world differently just as his brother did – but in a divergent way than Hashirama. His way of thinking since he’d been a child had only matured and modified his premature ideals as he grew through continuous combat. Every battle, every death, every experience had molded and shaped him, his thoughts, and his judgement of his next actions. Everything he did and said was for a purpose. Not only for the sake of his clan, but for the dreams his brother had instilled in him since they had been child warriors tainted by war. These men, these clans, they only knew of their own suffering and pain, their loss and hate. They saw him as a heartless murderer of their kin.

In some ways, they were right, but they did not comprehend his reasoning. They did not understand that he was not only a heartless murderer. They were trapped in the past just as Hashirama was blindly forging the future. There was no way to completely mend the past or know the entirety of the consequences in building the future. Tobirama stayed grounded in the present where he could immediately affect things as they came.

“I may not know your thoughts, but actions can speak louder than words,” Yakumi growled. “Do not think I haven’t seen you kill my clansmen without a single shred of emotion on your face. It is known to us Uchiha that your heart is carved from ice, and that you never mourned nor raged when your clan was cut down in front of you.”

Tobirama’s gaze sharpened, his ire building at the nonsense the Uchiha was spouting. Cold as he may be rumored to be, his temper was something that even _he_ could not completely contain.

“And it was the Senju who killed my father and wife!”

Ah.

So that was it. All of those glares from this Uchiha. Tobirama understood Yakumi’s resentment now. Whether he was the Senju that killed his father and wife mattered not. All Senju were to blame for his suffering.

“I see,” Tobirama simply said, more to himself than to the angry man in front of him.

Yakumi bristled. “Is that all you have to say? I should have known the rumors of your cold heart were true. You don’t even _care_ if your clansmen die. Would you even care if your _brother_ —”

Whatever was remaining of Tobirama’s chakra flared up in an abrupt torrent, shoving the Uchiha before him back a step with the sheer pressure and silencing whatever Yakumi would have said. Several things happened at once. All of the hidden Uchiha guards and servants surrounded him wielding their weapons. The three Uchiha behind Yakumi raced forward, brandishing kunai and hidden swords. The seals on his wrists and ankles immediately began to glow red, forcing the surge of chakra back almost painfully and causing a burning sensation where the seals were inked. Tobirama didn’t flinch, allowing his chakra to return to him.

Ignoring them all, Tobirama focused all of his attention on the single Uchiha in front of him with such heavy killing intent that the man trembled from it. Yakumi held his own kunai, crouched in a battle stance, but there was fear in his tight features. Glowing red Sharingan surrounded Tobirama from all sides.

“Do _not_ ,” he said with a chilliness that dropped the warm temperature a few degrees, “ _Ever_ assume you know _anything_ about me.”

Yakumi swallowed, never looking away from piercing red eyes – eyes that wrought as much fear as the Sharingan even if they were not looking directly into his own Sharingan. Tobirama remained as unmoving as a mountain. Any movement from him, even a twitch of his fingers, would provoke an attack as keyed up as the shinobi surrounding him were.

Breathing an inward sigh, Tobirama dissipated his killing intent. It would not do to provoke these shinobi as much as he was irritated with Yakumi’s nonsense. The Uchiha remained wary, though.

“The Senju have caused you and your clan pain,” Tobirama said, the ice in his voice lessening. “As have the Uchiha caused pain to the Senju…and I. But we are allies now, no matter the past. You say the treaty is a farce? That is only if it believed to be so. The treaty will only hold if both sides work together.”

“And how do you expect us to work together when neither side trusts each other?” Inabi demanded, braving a step forward with his sword pointed at Tobirama. The man had a quick temper from Tobirama’s observations of the Uchiha in the compound these past months. This one was easy to rile, more likely to attack than continue questioning, and he seemed to revel in trying to get a response from Tobirama with insulting remarks whether about his appearance or some other inane thing…much like another certain Uchiha. Inabi was too overconfident in his abilities. Normally Tobirama would have put him in his place, but he had little time for a bully of this standard…

Tobirama swept a glance at the narrow-faced man. “We all hold the same goal…war has shaped us, created suffering and hate, death and vengeance…an endless cycle that has not ceased until now. We fought each other for the same ideals, and neither side realized.”

“The same ideals?” Yakumi echoed in confusion, some of the fear lifting from his face but still wary.

“Peace,” Tobirama answered. The answer had always been obvious, perhaps so obvious that it was overlooked. “If not peace, then the safety and protection of our loved ones. The Senju are not monsters who killed your loved ones…and neither are the Uchiha who killed mine. We fight to protect those who we care about and in turn kill those who others care about.”

The faces of the Uchiha stared at him in some shock at the admission. To say that he didn’t consider the very clan who stood before him, the ones who had likely killed Senju some time in their lives, as not monsters? It was a travesty to them. Tobirama had witnessed firsthand how the Uchiha greatly loved and valued the members of their clan, how the death of a single person could forever break them. Their absolute loyalty to their clan was something to envy – his own clan claimed that love was their source of power, but Tobirama had never believed so. His very own father, Senju Bustuma, had never showed his love to his children – not even when they died.

“Don’t you…” Yakumi hesitated, lowering his kunai slightly. “I thought you hated the Uchiha?”

“I do not, and have never said so,” Tobirama said bluntly. “These circumstances have created the world we live in now…the Senju and the Uchiha have always been evenly matched, which made our clashes more frequent than any other. Whether it be the Hagoromo or any other clan, anyone could have been enemies during war. The Uchiha have always been the greatest threat to the Senju and vice versa.”

“So what of it?” Inabi growled. “Do you expect us to make nice after all that’s happened? What about the ones who died? Did they die for nothing?”

“The dead are dead,” Tobirama told him, narrowing his eyes at the furious man. “They cannot affect anything now. We can only continue on what they fought for…and that is what we have now.”

What his brother had fought for for so long. Peace. It was on the tips of their fingers. They had hardly grasped it yet – no one knew what peace was like, no one had ever experienced it before. It was as frightening as it was alluring.

“My father and wife…” Yakumi’s face twisted into one of pain and conflict, the Sharingan fading from his eyes. “I…”

“If we follow through with hate and vengeance, then we will be plunged into war once more. The ones we have fought so hard to protect – they will suffer along with us,” another Uchiha spoke up. Tobirama recognized him as Uchiha Hikaku, a man around his age with his hair pulled up in a high ponytail and long bangs framing both sides of his face. Unlike the normal black the Uchiha wore, he had a high-collared dark purple shirt with an ornamental gold chain hanging around his right shoulder. Hikaku…Hikaku had been Izuna’s close friend. Tobirama had clashed with Hikaku multiple times while fighting Izuna. They looked at each other, both features wiped completely clean of emotion and a history of blood behind them.

“I can’t…” Yakumi whispered, just barely loud enough for Tobirama to hear, unknowingly breaking the gaze between the two men. “I can’t let my son go through the same thing I did…”

The Uchiha looked back and forth between Tobirama and their stricken comrade. With the risk of battle gone, some lowered their weapons. Silence enveloped the area.

“I have made my choice,” Tobirama said, lowering his arms from their crossed state slowly as to not look threatening. “And now it is time for you to make yours.”

Turning, he strode through the circle of Uchiha. They allowed him to pass without stopping him. They knew or perhaps now understood that he remained in the compound by choice, allowed his chakra to be sealed and his weapons taken away, and accepted that he would be separated from his clan and his brother perhaps for years. He was the catalyst for his clan, but the Uchiha had yet to find one.

Tobirama felt a prolonged stare at him just as he passed between two Uchiha, glancing to his right and noticing one of the Uchiha servants. A woman with long wavy purple-colored hair and straight cropped bangs. He recalled her name was Uchiha Naori. She stared at him with an inscrutable expression. Unlike the others, he’d noticed earlier she hadn’t pulled out a weapon and instead stood by observing the events. Servant or not, every Uchiha like the Senju would have received shinobi training early in life, and she could likely do some damage even without a weapon.

Ignoring it, Tobirama continued towards the koi pond and the tree he had become fond of sitting in. He easily leapt up onto the sturdy branch that overlooked the compound, resting his back against the trunk with the branches and leaves providing some concealment. Closing his eyes, Tobirama allowed his body to gradually relax as he sensed the gathered Uchiha dispersing back to their stations. He hadn’t shown it in front of the Uchiha, but he was weary from the chakra usage and the seals still burning his wrists and ankles.

This event…it had gone a little differently than how he’d imagined it. Never would he have thought that Hikaku agreed with him. After all, Hikaku and Izuna had been as close as brothers could be. Tobirama had seen the fury and pain in Hikaku’s face when he’d witnessed the mortal wound Tobirama had given Izuna. But the look he had given Tobirama earlier…it had been tranquil, a lake undisturbed by any ripples from the past. Tobirama didn’t know what to make of it. But he knew there was a definite change, not only with Hikaku, but this incident felt like it was a vital deciding factor for the Uchiha. It was up to the Uchiha clan now to choose which path to take.

Lifting his arm, he squinted an eye open to consider the seal. The elaborate markings still faintly glowed red with black around the edges. The skin around it had turned reddish as if it had been sitting over the heat of a fire or the results of prolonged exposure to the sun. Tobirama wasn’t too concerned. His pale skin had always been easy to mark, making it look worse than it really was.

Lowering his hand to rest on his knee, Tobirama sighed because the burning sensation wasn’t going away even though he wasn’t kneading chakra. No doubt Madara had felt him raise his chakra through their linked seals and would be here any moment. It would be a pain to deal with the Uchiha leader after this, but at least it gave Tobirama an idea of how the seals worked in connection to Madara. He could feel Madara’s chakra bubbling from the seal clearly concentrated to keep Tobirama’s chakra at bay. The burning sensation became more intense as the minutes ticked by, which Tobirama guessed was a reaction to how close Madara was getting to the compound.

Eventually, when it felt like flames were really licking at his skin, Tobirama felt the arrival of the angry Uchiha leader in a burst of dark chakra and a couple Uchiha guards scurrying to greet him. Tobirama grimaced when the chakra intensified the seals, sending what felt like a burst of scorching lava flooding through his system. His chakra automatically crackled in response, but it was undeniably _agonizing_ when the seals immediately shoved it back with a blazing surge. He couldn’t hold back a soft chuff of pain, fingers curling into a fist to hold back any other sounds.

It didn’t take long for the man to stomp his way to where Tobirama was perched in the tree. Madara glared at him suspiciously, sweeping a look around as if to look for signs of a battle or dead bodies. It was no surprise considering how fast Madara had come here, likely afraid Tobirama had killed all of the Uchiha within the compound. The other Uchiha gathered once more, nervously standing by, none of them saying a word.

“What happened?” Madara eventually demanded after seeing for himself that seemingly nothing had occurred.

“Nothing, Madara-sama.”

It was Hikaku who stepped forward, unperturbed by his leader’s riled temper. He most likely was used to it, considering he’d been a close friend of Izuna. Madara pinned him with his intense glare.

“ _That_ ,” Madara growled. “Was murderous chakra I felt all the way in the village. Do not lie to me.”

Hikaku dipped his head in submission. “My apologies, Madara-sama. I did not mean to lie. There was a confrontation, but it was quickly resolved. No one was hurt.”

Madara looked at each Uchiha, frowning. They all looked down or away, unwilling to rat out one of their own for provoking the prisoner. He looked back at Hikaku, whose face was serene and open with honesty, then he scowled back up at Tobirama.

“Senju,” he said in a low, threatening voice that was backed by a flare of potent chakra. “If you touch _one hair_ on any of my clan member’s head, _I will end you_.”

The seals glowed a brilliant crimson at the warning. Tobirama kept his features stone cold so that none witnessed the waves of hot pain coursing through his veins. His muscles were so tensed to silently endure it that if anyone touched him in that moment, he would have felt like a rock hard statue. Madara’s chakra blazed around him in visible flares, but Tobirama was not cowed. There was only one man who could instill fear in him with such a dense, suffocating chakra filled with killer intent that it was like a physical blow to every single one of his senses. Madara was no Hashirama, but he was definitely someone to be reckoned with.

Tobirama did not respond, both men glaring at each other. There was nothing Madara could do to him since none of his clan members were wounded, but Madara could cause him pain so long as the seals linked them together.

But pain was nothing to endure as Tobirama hardened his resolve to follow through with the promise he had made to himself when he had chosen to give himself to the Uchiha.


	4. Détente

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious about their ages:  
> Tobirama - 24  
> Tōka - 29  
> Mito - 26  
> Hashirama - 27  
> Madara - 27
> 
> Credits to Kishimoto Masashi for the characters. The story is mine.

 

“Good morning, Madara-sama.” 

Madara gave a curt nod to his clansmen who greeted him as he stalked down the hallway, ignoring their nervous glances at him. He was in a foul mood, and it was apparent in the dark aura about him.

The negotiations with the Hagoromo clan had not gone well yesterday...too many grudges between the clans who were already allied with the village. The Uchiha had little problem with the newest possible addition since they had been allies multiple times during wartime, but the Senju had lost many of their clan members to the Hagoromo. The meeting had been fairly bristling with agitated shinobi, and even the ever pacifist Hashirama had not been able to completely calm his clan members. The Hagoromo clan themselves were dwindling in numbers, their once proud clan boasting of numerous powerful warriors was now a sad sight of ragged vagabonds trying to find a place after a lifetime of war. 

If they could not integrate themselves in the village, then there was no place for them here. Madara had little pity to spare even for former allies. He was neck-deep in negotiations and treaties, building the growing village, paperwork, Hashirama’s idiocy, _paperwork_ , and trying to meet the needs for his own clan. Completing one task gave the time for a dozen more to be added onto the mountain of a pile. There was no end to it. 

He’d hardly had time to sleep, his exhaustion pronouncing the already prominent bags under his eyes even more. Hashirama had even less, he knew, even though Hashirama tried to keep up a optimistic front. 

The negotiations with the Hagoromo would continue today, scarcely after the break of dawn, which meant Madara had had less than two hours of sleep last night. 

The meeting was the last thing on his mind, however. The blasted younger brother of Hashirama had caused a ruckus a couple days ago, causing him to depart from the village during a vital meeting without a moment’s hesitation after feeling that murderous chakra leak through the seals linking him to Senju Tobirama. 

He’d been terrified of finding his clan member’s corpses strewn about like he’d seen one too many times in his lifetime, speeding towards the hidden compound with his pounding heart in his throat, pouring his chakra through the linked seals to close off that chilling killing intent. Even without access to chakra, Madara knew Tobirama was capable of slaughtering every single Uchiha in the compound. He’d seen Tobirama in combat multiple times – a white-haired, red-eyed blood-soaked demon on the battlefield possessing massive arctic chakra, calculating and _ruthless_ battle tactics, and lightning speed that few shinobi could imitate. Tobirama was merciless to his enemies, never hesitating to strike a fatal blow when the opportunity struck unlike Hashirama. Madara himself had only clashed with Tobirama a few times since he had mostly been occupied with fighting against Hashirama, but he could acknowledge that Tobirama’s prowess in battle was highly exceptional – enough to be a considerable opponent even against Madara. 

Senju Tobirama would kill an Uchiha without a qualm given the chance. And if he even _touched_ one of his clan members, Madara would cut off the Senju’s head, peace treaty be damned. 

But... _nothing_ had happened – or so it seemed. 

Madara was still suspicious. None of his clan members had seemed to be harmed...and Hikaku was one of the few he trusted. He wanted to trust Hikaku’s word, but even his trust towards Izuna’s friend, someone he had even considered a little brother, was wavering. Hikaku was hiding something from him. 

Frown pulling at the grim line of Madara’s mouth, he left the Uchiha compound towards the well-guarded official building near the temporary Senju compound. Hikaku was something he’d have to deal with later, once the man returned from guarding the hidden compound where the Senju prisoner resided. 

There were few people out so early, only the shopkeepers setting up their wares and older shinobi heading towards the training grounds for morning practice. The civilians and shinobi he passed nodded in respect to him while covertly casting wary glances at him, but none paused to talk with him as they would have done with Hashirama. The Senju leader was warm and approachable. Even the wariest of clans approached him with a smile and friendly greeting. Hashirama had won over even the mistrustful older Shimura clan head. 

Madara didn’t particularly care one way or another. He was spared of useless conversation whenever Hashirama was around to talk for him. If there was one thing that he appreciated, it was that Hashirama’s younger brother had little inclination to talk to him unless necessary...though it pained him to even _think_ of complementing Senju Tobirama. 

It had been amusing at first, in attempting to provoke a reaction from the stoic Senju – someone who differed from his _entire_ clan. He stood out with his coldness in contrast to his clan who were easily impassioned and mimicked their beloved forests with their zests for life. The lack of response had soon bored him, however, for Madara held little interest in someone who was as dead inside as he was out. 

Thoughts of the younger Senju gave him a horrible migraine. It was a tense topic between Hashirama and Madara. Since the first visit Hashirama had paid his younger brother, he’d continued to bring up the visitation rights more frequently. Madara had rebuffed him the first few times, but he _had_ been considering it. Even for him, it was cruel to separate the brothers for six months at a time. Madara could understand where Hashirama was coming from – after all, Madara had once been an older brother to four...but that was in the past, and Madara was not the man he once was. 

The recent event had changed Madara’s mind completely. Tobirama was too dangerous, and there was too much information that could be passed between the brothers. The Senju all stood by Hashirama’s brother, many of them not believing the hastily made lie that Tobirama was on a prolonged covert mission. They suspected the Uchiha, and they especially suspected Madara, but they could say nothing when Tobirama’s own brother allayed their concerns. None but the few who had been present during the negotiations knew of Tobirama’s fate, and they’d all been sworn into secrecy. If shinobi were good for anything, it was keeping secrets and even if it pained them to lie to their own clan members, the Senju kept their mouths firmly shut. 

The tensions between the clans were still high, but at least there had not been a clash – _yet_. It was only a matter of time, though, considering none of his clan went near the Senju unless necessary. The Senju were much the same, aside from Hashirama. Madara was sure the female Senju harpy who worried about Tobirama like a mother hen would rip out his throat if she could considering how venomously she glared whenever she caught sight of Madara. She’d been following Hashirama around since the village’s founding, relentlessly hounding her leader about Tobirama’s whereabouts. Hashirama had taken to fleeing the wrathful harpy whenever he spotted her. 

The insensate thoughts fluttered through his head as he passed through the official building, disregarding the guards stationed at the door. He would have to deal with these current issues at a later time. For now, he had to take care of the Hagoromo clan. 

He could practically _feel_ the tension in the large meeting room of the gathered Hagoromo and Senju representatives as he strode down the hallway. He lifted his head a bit upon noticing Hashirama standing before him dressed in the formal cream and green Senju kimono and haori, apparently having waited for him before heading in himself. 

Hashirama smiled, but it was a tired smile. “You’re early, Madara.” 

“And so are you,” Madara pointed out. “If you stand out here too long, your clansmen aren’t going to be able to hold themselves back considering the Hagoromo won’t hesitate to retaliate.” 

“I brought Mito and Tōka today,” Hashirama chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck wryly. 

So it seemed Hashirama had been smart enough to not bring the two Senju who had seethed the entire meeting at the Hagoromo shinobi yesterday. But...if anything, Madara knew that Senju Tōka was liable to be more aggressive than any other of her clan members. 

“Your cousin won’t be much better than the two yesterday,” Madara said. Combining Hagoromo and Uchiha shinobi in a room with the Senju harpy was definitely a recipe for disaster. Idiot that Hashirama was, even _he_ should know his cousin’s temperament. 

“She will behave herself,” Hashirama said confidently. 

Madara snorted disbelievingly. “Right. Let’s get this over with.” 

Hashirama nodded and began to turn around before hesitating. He turned back, looking at Madara with a solemn expression. 

“Thank you, Madara.” 

Madara froze at the words. “What…?” 

“You’ve been working harder than anyone for the village, day and night. Thank you for being here for the village,” Hashirama said, and the expression he wore told Madara he was serious. There was no hint of the fool that Hashirama often played, only sincere honesty. 

Madara looked away, gloved fists clenching. Hashirama was an idiot. It was _Hashirama_ who was working tirelessly, day and night, to build a village that Madara had not believed in since he’d been a child throwing rocks cross a river. When Hashirama looked at him, he saw the childhood friend from long ago, and when Madara looked at Hashirama, he saw the older brother of the one who had killed Izuna. Madara had taken away his brother, was keeping him captive at this very minute, and Hashirama had the audacity to _thank him_? 

“...Don’t thank me,” Madara said, low and harsh, glaring hard at the Senju leader. “Whatever friendship we may have had in the past is no longer here, Hashirama. I’ve no interest in your childish dreams. I will do whatever it takes to keep my clan alive, even if it means creating an alliance with _you_.” 

“Madara…” Hashirama said softly, and his entire posture slumped, expression crushed. 

Madara turned away from that gut-wrenching look, striding past Hashirama. If his heart clenched at the sight, he did not acknowledge it, did not allow himself to. It had been his softness that had been a fatal weakness...and it had led to Izuna’s death. Madara could not afford to allow any weaknesses now. He’d soldered the last of the iron walls around his heart when Izuna died, and he would never allow anything or _anyone_ to break past it again. Even if his own clan hated him for it, he would protect every last one of them with his dying breath. 

His own two representatives of the Uchiha waited outside the door of the meeting room, bowing respectfully when he reached them. Madara strode past them into the meeting room with the two following closely behind. 

Madara sat in the chair with the recognizable Uchiha crest adorning the wall behind him. Hashirama went to the side opposite of the entrance, the Senju crest proudly hanging behind him. Nearest to the entrance were the Hagoromo, their own crest embroidered on their formal clothing. 

Senju Tōka stood to Hashirama’s left in the same Senju formal dress, and to his right stood his wife, Uzumaki Mito in her prim white kimono of the Uzumaki, as a representative of the Uzumaki clan, a notable sister clan to the Senju. The Senju harpy narrowed her eyes at Madara, dislike plain in her dark eyes and frowning painted lips. Mito, on the other hand, looked perfectly serene, standing straight and composed with not a single strand of red hair out of place. She dipped her head slightly in acknowledgment to the Uchiha leader's appearance. It was a wonder how Hashirama managed to get a woman like this, arranged marriage or not. Madara had little interest in the two kunoichi, however, dismissing them entirely as he assessed the stone-faced elderly Hagoromo clan leader and the two behind him. The two were different Hagoromo shinobi as well, but both still scowled menacingly at the Senju before them. 

The Hagoromo watched him cautiously. Smart, considering they were currently in a room with two of the most powerful shinobi in the world – one hailed as the God of Shinobi and the other the renowned leader of the prestigious Uchiha clan. 

“Shall we begin?” Hashirama said, ready smile in place while Madara inwardly braced himself for the long and undoubtedly _drawing_ meeting. 

 **-~~o0O0o~~-**  

A couple days after the confrontation with Yakumi and Madara, Tobirama found that the glares and general resentment directed at him had noticeably decreased. Not absent, but definitely decreased. 

Yakumi, he noticed, hardly met his eyes and behaved stoically around him. Inabi still glared and made slighting remarks, but the others were…quiet. Perhaps quiet wasn’t the word, but the tension within the compound in the past several months was lessened.

Tobirama was still on guard even if he didn’t look it. There was too much at stake, too much on his mind, to relax. There was not single day in this prison that he had not planned, strategized, contemplated the existence of a village that would have never existed even a year ago. From what Hashirama had told him, Madara was competent at the political level, but he was a military man through and through. He held power because he relentlessly enforced it, and he held sway in negotiations because he was feared. Not unbecoming traits, admittedly, but there were the little things that Tobirama was not satisfied with. Both his brother and Madara strived for the big picture, ignoring the needs of matters that were nearly microscopic in their vision. 

It was vexing to sit here without being able to do anything. He had no allies here, no way to sway the events occurring in the village. 

But that hardly mattered. 

Tobirama was not a man who sat around and idled. He’d scoped out every inch of the compound, scrutinized every individual that came and went. Madara had been thorough in ensuring the seals would be strong enough to keep Tobirama at bay. Not even the butterflies could exit – Tobirama had observed the flying insects always pause at the edges of the compound as if deterred by an invisible shield. The seals formed a dome over the compound, about thirteen meters at its highest point right above the center of the compound, curving downwards to fit snugly against the four and a half meter high walls surrounding the area. Tobirama could safely assume that the seals likely went into the ground to prevent him from tunneling his way out. 

A very durable seal, indeed, but even the strongest seals had weaknesses, and Tobirama had studied enough about seals through their close Uzumaki allies on the rare occasions they allowed him to access their coveted archives filled with an incredible array of fūinjutsu and other secret techniques. A pity they had only allotted him a short amount of time to read through the thousands of scrolls, but he’d gleaned enough information to modify and create some substantial seals himself...though most were still in the experimental process. 

The unfortunate side of the Uchiha’s lessened animosity was that they had become sensitive to every fluctuation of his chakra since that day. They watched him warily while he meditated, sensing his chakra flowing and ebbing, but unable to discern what he was doing or even if he was doing anything suspicious. Yakumi’s scrutinization became even more intense during these sessions, but he said little about it in contrast to Inabi’s obvious suspicion. 

Letting out a long, quiet sigh, Tobirama opened his eyes, peering upwards from where he sat in the lotus position. The skies were gray, darker clouds rolling in. He’d ended his meditation early upon noticing the air becoming more moist, the scent of rain heavy in the breeze. 

Standing up, he turned and strode towards the main building. The moment he stepped onto the engawa hall framing the perimeter of the building, the first drops of rain sprinkled down. Tobirama turned his head to watch under the slanted tiled roof as the drizzles quickly fell into torrents of water. It was curious, he thought, that the butterflies could not exit or enter, but rain could. 

It certainly gave him several theories, considering water release was one of his specialties. Tobirama left the engawa hall through the opened sliding doors. He sat on the zabuton floor cushion, resting his elbow on rectangular chabudai low table, gazing at the wet scenery outside. 

The hot summer season in the Land of Fire had been relatively dry with no rain since his imprisonment here. He wondered how far he could manipulate a water clone to view the village...the thought was tempting, but it was much too risky. Clones took up too much chakra, and Madara would certainly notice if he was using that much chakra. It was much easier to infuse the water with a little bit of his chakra and send it to relay messages. He’d done it before to send covert messages back to his clan members, though it worked better in shorter distances. The village was too far away – his chakra would disperse and the water would likely evaporate entirely before it reached the village considering the summer could get scorchingly hot during midday. More chakra infused in the water would keep it going longer, but the entire process was meant to be _surreptitious_ , and shinobi with relatively competent sensing skills would quickly discover it. 

Tobirama’s musings were interrupted at an approaching chakra signature. He immediately recognized it, glancing briefly at the Uchiha who entered the room. Uchiha Naori stood at the entrance of the sliding doors on the engawa walkway, a round wooden tray held in her hands with two steaming clay tea cups. 

“Senju-san,” she murmured a greeting. 

Tobirama said nothing in response, knowing she wasn’t expecting one. He watched her step inside the spacious room, moving to place one cup next to where his arm rested on the table. She placed the other on the opposite side of the table before straightening up. 

“May I?” she asked, flicking a look at the cushion near the second cup she had placed. 

“Do as you want,” Tobirama said, ignoring the offered tea and returning to gazing at the rain. 

She did, sitting formally on the cushion after setting the tray down on the table and taking the clay cup in her hands. She faced the opened sliding doors as well, saying nothing. 

Lightning flashed, lighting up the dim skies briefly. Low thunder followed, rumbling ominously in the distance. 

Uchiha Naori was peculiar. 

Tobirama had noticed it soon after his imprisonment, but he hadn’t paid as much attention to her as he had the guards. She was quiet, hardly talking much like Uchiha Tekka. She was the only one among the servants who still offered him tea when the others had stopped. She’d never glared at him once, merely watching him from a distance, face blank of emotion. Naori was Tōka's age at twenty-nine, five years older than Tobirama, though she was nearly the complete opposite of his cousin. Where Naori was smaller and more feminine, Tōka was almost Tobirama’s height, built with lean muscle and a churlish attitude from her tomboyish days when they were younger. Tōka had never been fond of learning certain womanly kunoichi ways, often joining Tobirama and his brothers in their rigorous training regimes under the supervision of her uncle Butsuma. Naori likely excelled in stealth with her appearance rather than Tōka’s immense strength, if she were a kunoichi rather than a servant. 

He knew she had a lover named Naka, another Uchiha. A servant had conversed with her about it a few times while they tidied the gardens while Tobirama meditated. Other than that, it seemed she had no other close friends or relatives even within the Uchiha clan. 

This was, however, the first time she’d approached him like this. 

Tobirama waited, knowing she would talk eventually. There was no other reason for her to sit with him otherwise. 

It was just as the last rumbles of thunder faded after another lightning strike when she did speak. 

“You are the Uchiha clan’s bogeyman,” she said simply. 

Tobirama turned his attention to her, watching as she merely stared solemnly out into the rain. 

“Children are warned not to go out at night, because a white-haired, red-eyed, pale-skinned Senju will appear out of thin air and snatch them away,” she continued. “Even the most skilled of the Uchiha shinobi were warned to flee at the sight of Senju Tobirama – a caution that was not even given for one as powerful as Senju Hashirama.” 

Well...Tobirama had not known this, though he’d suspected. The Senju were warned of the same thing – under no circumstances were they to engage in combat with Uchiha Madara or Uchiha Izuna without the aid of Tobirama or Hashirama. It was a death sentence to face them, just as it was for anyone to face Tobirama. Hashirama had a horrible habit of not killing his enemies, which had caused more problems than not... 

“I’ve no interest in snatching children,” Tobirama responded a bit dryly. He already had enough on his hands with the Senju children who loved to cling to him and watch him do tricks with creative water release techniques. The Senju were typically affiliated with earth and wind nature transformations. Water was a rare one for them, a treat for the children to see water dragons and water swirling and twisting in midair when most Senju only knew a relatively simple amount of common water release jutsus. 

“I know,” Naori said, and then she looked at him from across the small table, dark eyes calm but assessing. 

Tobirama waited for her appraisal of him to finish, arms crossed and expression blank. 

“You are much different than I’d imagined,” she said. “Less...monstrous, and more human than most believe.” 

“And what do you believe?” Tobirama questioned, curious despite himself. It wasn’t as if he had a conversation with an Uchiha everyday. Torture interrogations didn’t count – plus, the Uchiha were a stubborn lot, the Senju never having gained any useful information after a capture. 

“I believe in the words you said,” Naori said unexpectedly, the veracity in her eyes unwavering. 

Tobirama blinked, taken aback by the response. 

Naori looked back out at the stormy weather. 

“My family was killed by the Senju. My mother and father and my older sister and two younger brothers,” she said, her tone becoming soft, almost detached with its sorrow. Her fingers whitened over the clay cup, a slight tremble to them. “I lost them all within three years.” 

Tobirama said nothing at the admission. Apologizing would not ease her loss, and he wasn’t as sympathetic as his brother. 

She was silent for a moment before looking back at him, quiet melancholy in her features highlighted by a flash of lightning. “I haven’t fought in a battle since then...I was lost in the darkness for years afterwards...living but not living...writhing with hate and grief and the need to slake my vengeance...I had no reason to live – until now.” 

Tobirama tilted his head slightly, noticing how her pained expression softened. “And now?” 

“I found someone worth living for. I want to live with him, make a family with him, and never let our children ever suffer as we have,” she said, placing the cup of tea on the table and lifting her chin to look him directly in the eyes in resoluteness. “There is no future in war or in vengeance...but perhaps there will be with the ones we have hurt as we have been hurt…” 

Tobirama blinked again, not able to find a response right away, stunned that this Uchiha – this Uchiha out of a hundred of them – had just unwittingly smashed through all of the beliefs he’d held towards the clan. The Curse of Hatred, the terrible, unavoidable transformation of individuals of the Uchiha clan into vengeful killing machines he had witnessed numerous times, was something deep and psychological within the Uchiha clan. Uchiha Naori...if what she said was true, she had not completely succumbed even after _all_ of her family had been killed. 

“And what of your family?” Tobirama inquired. Cruel as it may be to mention it, he could not trust her resolve. Perhaps she _had_ overcome the debilitating Curse of Hatred that plagued her clan, but he had not lived to be twenty-four by making impulsive decisions. 

Her gaze hardened, chin lifting in a show of quiet boldness. “There is nothing I can do but forge on what they fought and died for...as you said, Senju-san. For the sake of all of our futures, for our children, we must vie for peace or fall into war once more...and as you have made your choice, so have I.” 

Tobirama studied her steely resolution. He was a sensor, was well-versed in reading body language and emotions, and chakra was a tell-tale way in discerning lies for sensors of his caliber. Nothing about her told him she was lying. Her earnestness was clear, and the solid fortitude of her expression was admittedly impressive, oddly reminiscent of his own brother’s adamant determination to obtain his dreams of peace. She must have been a formidable kunoichi on the battlefield – there was a warrior through and through inside that small frame, solid behind that soft voice. 

Something clicked inside Tobirama, like metal gears that had long been stilled slowly creaking to life. Perhaps the cycle of endless death was coming to an end, but a new wheel was turning – one that just might spin towards a revolution of new prospects. 

Perhaps...perhaps this was the beginning of change. 

And perhaps this time, _he_ should learn to trust as he had never learned to do so before. 

Slowly reaching up, he grasped the clay cup which had only mildly warm tea now. Returning to viewing the rain, he raised it to his lips and took a small sip. Naori blinked, eyes widening in surprise before a small smile touched her lips. 

“Let me brew you fresh tea, Senju-san,” she offered, moving to stand. 

“Tobirama is fine...and thank you, I would like that,” Tobirama said, the words foreign on his tongue. Never would he have thought he would be _thanking_ an Uchiha, nevertheless _drinking_ tea with one. Perhaps the reality of the alliance hadn’t hit him quite yet – it wasn’t as if he’d experienced anything relatively pleasant with them, and unlike the others who lived in the village, he’d gone straight from a warzone to imprisonment. 

Experiencing it was certainly an experience in itself. 

Naori took his cup to empty it with her own, soon returning with a small cast iron teapot, dry rice snacks, and their washed cups. She poured it for both of them, setting the cup next to him again before taking a seat across the table. Tobirama picked up the clay cup up again, and against his better judgement and well-ingrained suspicions of any drink or food offered to him by a stranger, he decided that if an Uchiha wanted to aid in the alliance – a miracle in itself – then he may as well meet her halfway. 

They spent the rest of the evening in content silence as the storm gradually slowed to a gentle drizzle, sipping hot tea.

 


	5. And If I Could Have...

Tobirama woke early as per usual. He bathed in the small bathroom inside the main building, dressed in his usual blue kimono shirt, matching pants with a mesh shirt underneath, and wrapped his calves with white tape (normally to store small weapons, but the familiarity of the routine had him doing it anyway even without his normal arsenal available).

Just as he left his room intending to meditate in the gardens before making himself breakfast, he noticed the smell of freshly steamed rice wafting through the hallway. Frowning, because the servants normally cooked the guard’s and their meals in their assigned quarters and not usually near the main building, Tobirama entered the room facing the gardens.

A breakfast of grilled fish, pickled radishes and turnips, and rice with a cup of hot green tea sat on the chabudai table where he’d sat with Naori last night.

This...wasn’t usual.

Pausing, he scrutinized the set up with wary curiosity. None of the guards or servants ever ate in here, having their own quarters for meals.

“Good morning,” Naori said, appearing around the sliding door with a white apron on and a ladle in one hand. Her long wavy hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and her sleeves held back with a violet-colored tasuki cord. “Would you also like miso with your breakfast?”

Tobirama stared at her for a long minute before looking down at the meal with a raised brow.

“...Miso would be nice…” he finally said, moving to sit at the table. He picked up the tea, slowly taking a sip. Well, he hadn’t died yet from drinking the tea yesterday...which meant it hadn’t been poisoned or dosed with truth serum or something else…

The fish was tempting, as he hadn’t had any for months. Meat was rare here, but Tobirama was self-sufficient enough to go without it, tending to his own small vegetable patch and making use of the supplies the guards gave him every two weeks. There was a storage unit in the main building where he kept the supplied rice sacks, pickled vegetables he made himself, and seasonings. Tobirama suspected Hashirama was the one sending him the dried persimmons, which he did indeed enjoy...they had always been his favorite aside from fish.

Naori smiled slightly. “Alright. I’ll be right back, Tobirama-kun.”

Tobirama almost choked on his tea as she turned and left. _Tobirama...kun??_

Well.

This certainly wasn’t what he had expected.

As his bewilderment subsided, Tobirama noticed a shadow lurking outside of the sliding doors, but before he could use chakra to sense who it was, Naori returned with a small bowl of miso, perched perfectly still in one hand to prevent any spillage. She set it down next to the bowl of rice along with a teapot of more hot tea.

“What’s all of this?” Tobirama asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“You normally make all of your meals, but Yakumi-kun noticed you’ve only been eating vegetables and rice. He said—”

The shadow at the sliding doors gave a choked sound before scrambling into view.

“Naori! I told you not to say anything!”

None other than Uchiha Yakumi stood there, looking both displeased and embarrassed. If Tobirama’s eyebrows went any higher, it would go past his hairline.

Yakumi flushed upon noticing Tobirama’s stare, immediately looking defensive.

“I-it’s not like I care or anything! Naori just took it the wrong way when I mentioned it and—”

“Have you both eaten breakfast, yet?” Tobirama interrupted.

“Eh?” Yakumi stopped, looking at Tobirama blankly.

“We haven’t,” Naori promptly answered. “Everyone takes meals in shifts. Both Yakumi-kun and I will be breaking our fast shortly.”

“Just eat here, then,” Tobirama said blandly, deciding to just not think about it too much right now, picking up his chopsticks. “I won’t be going anywhere.”

Naori looked surprised, and Tobirama was sure Yakumi’s jaw just about touched the floor.

A few minutes later, three breakfasts were served on the small table, Tobirama picking the tender meat off the fish while Naori calmly sipped her tea and Yakumi sat hunched and awkward between them.

“Your food is getting cold,” Tobirama pointed out dryly.

Yakumi jumped like a startled cat, scowling. “I know! I’m going to eat it.”

The man then proceeded to quickly devour everything in minutes and chugged down the hot tea before jumping to his feet.

“Gotta change shifts with Yashiro,” Yakumi muttered, still chewing the last bits of rice and swallowing before practically fleeing from the room.

Tobirama watched it all in some amusement before setting his chopsticks over the empty bowl of rice.

“Thank you for the meal,” he said.

Naori merely smiled behind the cup of tea. “Just leave those there. I will take care of it.”

Tobirama nodded his thanks, standing to leave. This...this breakfast had been surprisingly pleasant even with Yakumi’s fluster. Who would have believed that a Senju and Uchiha could eat breakfast together so peacefully?

He mulled over Yakumi’s participation in their morning breakfast (though it had mostly been because of the prolonged look from Naori when he’d tried to splutter out an excuse to leave). It was hard to believe that the man who had displayed such anger towards Tobirama not too long ago was now deigning to be in his presence willingly (again, through Naori’s silent and rather intimidating insistence).

Something to think about, indeed.

Tobirama fell into his usual morning routine, intent on warming up in the open grassy lawn in the gardens and practicing katas to keep his body fit and primed. A pity he couldn’t experiment on some new jutsus he’d thought up, but he should probably be thankful he actually had time to do so considering most of his time had been fighting to survive through a tumultuous childhood and young adulthood…

Just as he finished his warm ups and was about to begin the katas, another presence made itself known. Tobirama turned his head to see none other than Uchiha Hikaku standing under the shade of a tree.

It wasn’t unusual for the Uchiha guards to watch him practice, but none ever came close enough to be caught doing so.

“Would you like to spar?” Hikaku unexpectedly suggested, stepping closer out of the shadows of the tree.

Tobirama considered the other man warily. Hikaku had never spoken to him directly since the village’s founding. They’d studiously avoided each other, the unmentioned name of Uchiha Izuna holding that impalpable distance even after his death.

Or so Tobirama had believed.

“I won’t use any jutsu to compensate for your seals,” Hikaku said mildly, giving a pointed glance to the visible inked seals on Tobirama’s wrists. “Let’s keep it fair, shall we?”

Then he did a most unexpected thing.

Hikaku reached into the small weapon pouch on his right thigh and tossed Tobirama a slim Uchiha-styled kunai. Tobirama caught it automatically, almost _feeling_ the Uchiha guards watching a distance away startle in alarm. He held the kunai expertly if a little loosely away from his body in a nonthreatening manner, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Hikaku!”

It was Inabi who leapt from his position on the tower overlooking the compound by the guard’s quarters, incensed as he landed, marched over, and roughly snatched Hikaku by his collar.

“What’s the matter, Inabi?” Hikaku asked, though the answer was clearly obvious.

“What do you think you’re doing? Madara-sama ordered that any weaponry is not to be in the prisoner’s possession!” Inabi barked at the younger man before turning his head to Tobirama. “Drop the weapon, Senju! This insubordination breaks the conditions of the alliance!”

“He won’t do anything,” Hikaku said, tone hard and unyielding in response to the man’s outrage.

Tobirama glanced at Hikaku in surprise. Why was the man defending him? How did Hikaku know that he wouldn’t slaughter them all at this moment? He didn’t plan to, but the Uchiha didn’t know that. As far as Tobirama was concerned, Inabi had a right for his indignation and his fear.

“Shut up, Hikaku. Madara-sama will not be pleased with your actions,” Inabi hissed, shoving his clansman away with a disgusted sound.

Hikaku easily caught himself but didn’t seem bothered by the threat. The other Uchiha watched the tense situation with caution until Naori stepped forward between her clan members.

This time Tobirama tensed, imperceivable to the others. If she spoke up, it would put her in a detrimental position, and telling her to cease her next actions would bring suspicion to both of them. It was better to watch the situation unfold and assess his next actions while the tensions rose among the Uchiha.

“Inabi-kun, Hikaku-kun meant no harm,” she said, soft and composed, unflinching when the irate man turned his glower on her.

“Keep out of it, _you_ _defector_ ,” Inabi growled contemptuously.

Naori narrowed her eyes at the accusation, her eyes lightening with a tinge of red and lips thinning with the hint of a silent and _deadly_ contained predator — a sight that had even Inabi hesitating on saying more, a trace of wariness in his features.

Multiple Uchiha had surrendered to the Senju during the last of the warring years upon realizing the Senju were superior in both numbers and strength. None of them had been executed though some had died from illnesses and infected wounds (a result of limited medical supplies which the Senju had preferred to use on their own clan members rather than prisoners). They’d been merely closely monitored in stringent prison camps away from the Senju compound. The prison camps hadn’t been under Tobirama’s jurisdiction since he’d mainly been ordered on the frontlines with Hashirama and immersed in the intense political affairs between the countries bidding for mercenary warriors and other shinobi clans. Most had surrendered to keep their families alive for a little longer, as the Senju were one of the few shinobi clans known to keep their prisoners alive for the most part (mostly due to Hashirama’s interference, of course). The Uchiha, on the other hand, tended to take no prisoners, swiftly executing any enemies that surrendered to them with little mercy.

Tobirama hadn’t known that Naori had been one of their prisoners. Perhaps it was during the time she had rediscovered her will to live with her lover. It wasn’t surprising to Tobirama that the Uchiha who had surrendered during the war were considered traitors. He knew the Uchiha in the prison camps had been released once the alliance had been formed, but however the Uchiha clan had received their clan members who had deserted them was not something Tobirama had interest in. This, however, was a grave weakness the Uchiha were showing to him, that the Uchiha themselves may be divided amongst each other not only because of the alliance, but also for the presumed betrayal from their own. It was a weakness that could prove fatal to the village.

Deciding he’d done enough observing, Tobirama lifted the kunai, causing all of the Uchiha aside from Naori and Hikaku and surprisingly, Yakumi and Tekka, to startle and shift into defensive stances in an instant with some even activating the Sharingan. Effortlessly calm, Tobirama tossed the kunai exactly halfway between his feet and Inabi’s.

“If it is a spar you want,” Tobirama said coolly, “Then it is a spar you will get, Hikaku.”

Hikaku’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected Tobirama to know his name let alone accept his offer.

“You can’t—” Inabi started, taking a threatening step towards Tobirama.

“No weapons or jutsu. Breaking the seals is direct infringement to the contract, as is mutinous noncompliance to direct orders contrived by your leader. Any purposeful harm or death caused by the prisoner while under surveillance breaches the agreement, thus annulling the alliance completely,” Tobirama said abruptly, casting a hard look at the man and making him stop in his tracks. “I am aware of the conditions of the contract. A spar is in no violation of these stipulations, not between two willing contenders.”

Inabi scowled, clearly trying to find an argument to prevent such a thing occurring. The only way he could was to run all the way back to the village and tattle to his leader.

“Leave it be, Inabi,” Yakumi suddenly said, unmoving when the frustrated man snapped his attention towards him. “There is no transgression of the contract for a spar. Besides, I would like to test myself against one as famed as Senju Tobirama as well.”

And then, much to everyone’s surprise, Uchiha Tekka stepped forward.

“I, too, wish to spar,” he said quietly, steady as a stone in the currents of a river.

Silence reigned, but no one else dared to volunteer themselves. Inabi stared in disbelief at the four Uchiha who had risen against his expectations, betrayal flashing before it vanished in his growing fury. It was Tekka’s unexpected choice that was the final blow, Tobirama knew, because Inabi considered the younger man akin to a younger brother.

Gritting his teeth, Inabi abruptly turned away. “Che. Fine, do what you want. Just know that your days are numbered, _Senju_.”

With that, Inabi went back to his station on the tower with the other Uchiha slowly following in tow. That one was trouble. Tobirama was certain Inabi’s distrustfulness was nowhere near discontinuing. In fact, this incident had most likely only augmented Inabi’s negative beliefs on the Senju and the alliance in general. Inabi was another Madara in the making, and Tobirama had no intention of allowing such a thing to happen — not when times were only beginning to change.

For now, Tobirama had a spar that he was rather looking forward to. He turned to appraise the four Uchiha standing before him, gauging their strengths and weaknesses from his keen observations of them throughout his time here. Hikaku dipped his head in acknowledgement, a determined and somewhat satisfied glint coming to his dark eyes, and it was then that Tobirama’s suspicions were proven to be correct — he’d just _known_ that Hikaku had been testing him the moment he’d pulled out a kunai. Hikaku was smart, probably more intelligent than Izuna had ever been even if Izuna’s battle prowess had far outshined Hikaku’s. The kunai had been a stratagem in invoking the reactions of the other Uchiha. Tobirama knew it now, had begun to figure it out once Inabi’s blatant intolerance had become apparent and when the Uchiha had looked uneasily between Hikaku, who they highly respected for his sharp wit and skills, and Inabi, who boosted their pride as Uchiha with his robust love for his clan. Hikaku was also one to look out for, and Tobirama couldn’t yet tell what the other man was after.

Yakumi was another anomaly among the Uchiha. The man was headstrong, unwavering in his beliefs once he conceived them, but another could sway his thinking, allow him to see multiple contingencies and shake his convictions to the core. He had chosen a path that not even Tobirama had predicted, one that was closely dogging the footsteps of Uchiha Naori from what he could see. Yakumi’s world was becoming solid once more, his resolve apparent in his current choice to follow through with the alliance rather than his clan’s hesitance.

Tekka was more of a mystery for his choice, but his silence spoke more than he ever did. At nineteen, the younger man was rather reserved and more prone to observing his surroundings rather than mightily expressing himself like Inabi. Even now, he calmly watched Tobirama, a curious light in his placid expression. He was young yet, but his experience was not far behind Tobirama’s.

And Naori...she was the first Uchiha to ever make Tobirama reconsider his analysis of the Uchiha. If she was hurt by Inabi’s accusation, she did not show it, ever as tranquil as a contained fire — one that could become inflamed with devotion and fighting spirit that Tobirama had just witnessed her hold back with perfect restraint.

Naori shook her head slightly upon noticing his questioning look. “I will not be participating. I am a kunoichi no longer, but I can referee these spars if you would like.”

Perhaps she once was a notable kunoichi and could likely hold her own on the battlefield even now considering Inabi’s hesitance in sparking her fire, but Tobirama accepted her words with a short nod. Yakumi and Tekka moved back, wordlessly allowing the first challenger his battle.

Tobirama and Hikaku stood apart with Naori between them to their right, both alert and calculating. It would be a taijutsu battle. Tobirama’s speed trumped, but their tremendous aptitude for clever battle tactics were similar.

As they stilled in combat readiness, Tobirama locked eyes with Hikaku. There was that determination, but also something else, as if Hikaku were trying to convey a hidden message through his resoluteness alone. Tobirama strongly suspected it had to do with his former dead rival. Izuna was gone, but his steadfast vitality was alive and _burning_ in Hikaku.

“Begin,” Naori announced.

The first clash was brutal and swift, and Tobirama’s heart pounded with adrenaline and a rush of elation that only ever overcame him when he knew the battle would be fierce. He saw not Uchiha Hikaku whirling and swinging his heel at Tobirama’s chest with vicious force, but _Izuna_ with his shrewd tactics and limber movements. _Izuna_ blocked his fist to his sternum and reciprocated with a harsh knee to the gut that Tobirama sideswept with ease. _Izuna_ smirked ferociously in challenge. _Izuna_ —

Tobirama wanted to tear out the savage joy of a potent fight that he had not experienced since the village’s founding; he wanted to be lost in the heat of battle when he was at his most fierce; he wanted to rip away the sharp stab of grief, the regret, the _guilt_.

As his body succumbed to the beautiful and _ruthless_ art of killing, he shut away his emotions, shut away his memories, and shut away the last sight of Izuna’s gut-wrenchingly resigned smile, his body stilling for the deadly edge of Tobirama’s blade.

He shut away the tatters of his heart, because for all that it was believed he hated the Uchiha, Tobirama had only ever found true solace in his own private alliance years ago, when two young children of rival clans had met beneath the quiet sanctuary of a magnolia tree while the first blossoms bloomed in early spring, when two young children of rival clans had shared a profound understanding and friendship years before their elder brothers ever had.

 

**-~~o0O0o~~-**

 

“Madara, _wait_.”

Madara ignored the plea, striding swiftly down the long hallway of the administrative building with Hashirama hot on his heels.

The few curious onlookers in the hallway covertly watched the two clan leaders turn the corner and out of sight. Madara didn’t believe they had any privacy, however. This was a village of _shinobi_. There was bound to be eyes and ears listening in on them, _especially_ on the clan leaders who had founded the village in the first place.

“I only want to talk for a few minutes,” Hashirama tried again, following Madara into another hallway and through a secured room leading to the record archives.

The seals embedded in the entryway hummed to life, the invisible chakra fluttering over Madara’s skin before receding and allowing the Uchiha leader entrance. Hashirama was forced to pause to allow the seals to identify him before he hurried after Madara.

“Madara,” Hashirama said, and Madara finally turned to look at the Senju leader.

These archives were only open to a select few, guarded by diligent guards patrolling the administrative building and powerful seals in behalf of the Uzumaki clan’s unrivaled fūinjutsu techniques. There would be nasty consequences for any trespassers with all of the hidden traps and multitude of protective jutsus planted in the enormous room stacked with the growing pile of mission scrolls and records of every single individual in the village.

In other words, this was as private as they could get in the village considering there were always watchful eyes on them.

“I told you,” Madara said distinctly, crossing his arms and pinning a hard look on Hashirama. “That the visitation rights are set in stone. I’ve no interest in going over that again, Hashirama.”

“Can’t you think over it?” Hashirama asked beseechingly, and he looked pained and stubborn and desperate all at once.

“No,” Madara said with a finality that made Hashirama wince. “Your brother has caused enough trouble for the Uchiha. I will _not_ allow them to suffer at his hands again.”

“Times are changing, Madara,” Hashirama said, spreading his arms wide as if to gesture to the village as a whole. “Please give him a chance. He will not cause any trouble, I vow my life on it.”

Madara said nothing, unmoving as a mountain.

“ _Please_ ,” Hashirama said, voice quieting into a painful, forlorn tone. “I just want to see him again…”

Madara looked away, unable to bear the distress in Hashirama’s expressive countenance. What Madara would _do_ to see his brothers again...but he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t ever again. Hashirama had little idea of Madara’s pain even if he claimed to understand him. He still had one brother left to love and protect, his clan who adored him, and a village of hostile clans who were gradually beginning to come to admire him. Madara had no brothers, a clan who was divided, and the village feared him. He couldn’t trust anyone in the village, but he _could_ protect his clan with all of his might. If the village became a threat to them, he would take them away without looking back. Madara hardened his resolve and looked Hashirama straight in the eyes.

“You’ve lived six months without seeing him once. It’s only been over little than two weeks since you last saw him,” Madara said, his simmering anger bleeding into the cruel words. “You’ve seen for yourself that he is alive and well. I haven’t tortured him nor left him to starve. In fact, he is living a _far_ better life than he should.”

Hashirama looked stricken. “That’s not what I meant, Madara...I never believed you would intentionally make him suffer. I just—”

“Enough!” Madara snapped, swiping out a gloved hand as if to silence Hashirama’s feeble denial. “This conversation is over, Hashirama. I will not change my mind, and _you_ will break the terms of the alliance if you continue pestering me and someone finds out about your brother’s fate.”

Hashirama didn’t respond, face sorrowful and suddenly so excruciatingly difficult to look at that Madara decided to bite back the rest of the bitter words wanting to spill from his lips. He snatched the mission scrolls he’d come for and strode past Hashirama’s downtrodden form. Before he left, Madara paused, hand stilling on the door.

“One more thing, Hashirama,” he said, quiet and hard. “Do not assume that I would never harm your brother.”

Madara left, not waiting to see Hashirama’s expression.

Turbulent emotions brewed inside, but Madara did not allow them to be perceivable on the surface. His priority now was the safety of his clan, and that meant making the village a force to be reckoned with even more than it was now. The clans who had joined were all notably powerful clans like the Sarutobi, Shimura, Hyuga, and an handful of others. The Senju and Uchiha were especially known for obvious reasons. Such a force together was what had prompted the Land of Fire to immediately seek a friendly compromise, exploiting the shinobi village for their own devices while the village used the Land of Fire for theirs in turn. The village was a growing powerhouse that even other countries did not dare to draw attention from — in other words, both the safest and most dangerous place in the world right now.

Madara would utilize the village to the fullest for his purpose.

He unrolled one of the scrolls while he walked down the hallway, reading through the contents. None of the missions were extravagant yet, merely ones that were assigned to the shinobi in building the village and gathering resources. There was a slowly growing population that needed to be fed, sheltered, and motivated to work for the village’s growth. The Land of Fire’s daimyō had aided in funding the village in exchange for their services, which allowed the working shinobi to be paid for their efforts, thus providing a similar steady system of supply and demand that had provided shinobi clans with the resources supporting them during wartime.

Madara was intimately familiar with it, having been enormously involved in the process as a clan leader. Shinobi were still considered as mercenaries for hire even if the warring era had come to a short standstill, for they were masters in the art of killing and warfare. Smaller countries still sought their aid in petty skirmishes for land or riches, but most autonomous shinobi clans refused any offers now, afraid to face the allied forces of a powerful shinobi village if the opposing country were to hire them.

At least Madara didn’t have to worry about any aggressors for the time being, with all that was already on his plate.

Hashirama likely hadn’t considered the consequences of building a shinobi village. He wanted peace, but allied forces also brought fear and animosity. Fear wrought war...and Madara knew it all too well.

He rolled the scroll back up and was about to open the other when a child’s laughter rang in the hallway, a clear, innocent sound that pierced through Madara’s heavy musings.

A small child skidded to a near stop at the corner Madara was walking towards, looking back behind him and not seeing Madara ahead. Madara paused just as the child turned and saw him, big black eyes widening.

“Madara-sama!” he cried, barreling right into Madara’s legs and scooting under his robes. “Hide me!”

Following the child, a frazzled-looking middle-aged Uchiha woman skidded to a stop around the corner, eyes widening at the sight of her clan leader.

“M-Madara-sama!” she said breathlessly, bowing down immediately. “F-forgive me! Kagami-kun suddenly ran into the administrative building and—”

“I went to look for dad!” the child piped up, peeking around the folds of Madara’s robes and clinging to his pant legs.

“Yakumi-san is on a mission right now, Kagami-kun!” the woman scolded. “Madara-sama is busy, so let’s go back home now.”

Kagami stuck his tongue out. “No! I don’t want to!”

Madara glanced down at the child under his robes and the half-terrified, half-exasperated woman who quickly looked down when he glanced at her. She was likely looking after the child while his father was away. The Uchiha were a clan who raised all children as if they were their own, any parents leaving on missions without knowing if they’d return trusting the clan to raise and teach their children. A child’s growth was the entire clan’s responsibility, as it had been for generations. Madara himself had been reared from birth by multiple clan members when his mother had passed and his father had been too busy with clan affairs, all of whom were killed in the vicious years of bloodshed.

The six-year-old grinned up at Madara, who couldn’t help a faint smirk back at the boy’s mischievousness. The darker thoughts eased, and Madara swept around, crouching down to the child’s height.

“Don’t cause too much trouble, Kagami,” Madara said sternly, reaching out to firmly ruffle the boy’s head of thick black curls he’d gotten from his deceased mother. She’d been a powerful kunoichi, but she’d fallen in battle a proud shinobi only a year after birthing Kagami. The boy was a bright child, eager to learn and play and become a strong shinobi of the Uchiha. He was young, but his loss was tremendous, a loss that he understood in spite of being a child still.

“Yes, Madara-sama!” Kagami said, beaming with the innocent naivety only children could have. He hadn’t been tainted by war as most children, and Madara never wanted to see him on a battlefield, a tiny warrior corrupted by war.

Madara nodded and stood. “Your father will be home soon, so return home and wait patiently for him.”

Kagami blinked, and suddenly his innocent appearance was a surprisingly solemn one when he nodded. “I understand.”

Then he smiled brightly again and skipped back to the woman’s side, waving at Madara.

“Bye bye, Madara-sama! I’ll see you later!”

After bowing once more, the woman ushered the bouncing child down the hallway and out of the building. Madara watched them go before glancing out the window of the hallway at the cloudless blue skies, so vivid and blue after the rain yesterday.

Kagami reminded Madara of his youngest brother...he’d died at six bathed in blood and violence. He’d been an optimistic child in spite of the constant fighting, bright and vivid like the skies after a storm, always cheering his brothers up when they’d been down. A precious life lost too soon like all of his brothers, and Madara wouldn’t let the same fate happen to Kagami.

He closed his eyes, remembering Hashirama’s pained expression, the pleas that might have once moved him, and he remembered the last words of his remaining brother who he’d failed in protecting.

  
_Izuna...I will not break my promise to you. I will forge a path with these eyes you have given me so that our clan may live on…_


	6. For the Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I created a tumblr recently. If you'd like, please follow me there for random drabbles and stuff! Same username.

The negotiations with the Hagoromo failed in near bloodshed. 

Hashirama was devastated, of course, but his clan hardly blinked an eye for the “loss” of a potential ally. The Hagoromo had left with the promise of never becoming an ally to the village. Madara had held no faith in their integration into the village anyway, with how the Hagoromo and Senju resented each other. It had been a waste of time, but Hashirama moping about had left Madara entirely irritated. 

“We could have worked things out!” Hashirama was saying as he drooped gloomily over his assigned desk in the administrative building. 

“It was impossible at the start,” Madara dismissed while he shoved a book into the shelf lining the wall in his current task of organizing documents for _some_ semblance of arrangement in Hashirama’s and his shared office. Hashirama clearly had no knack for organization with his side of the office looking like a miniature tornado had scattered papers and scrolls across his desk. 

“The same could be said of the Senju and Uchiha,” Hashirama countered, sitting up a little and flipping through some papers without interest. 

Madara scoffed but said little to the statement. It was true in some regards, but the Uchiha and the Hagoromo were hardly of the same standards. Hashirama flopped back on his desk with a sigh. 

The tensions from their argument yesterday was hardly there now. It had been like this since the village’s founding. An argument here or there, only to be forgotten until the topic became too distinct of an issue that could no longer be partially ignored. It was likely due to Hashirama’s affable personality. The man hardly knew how to hold a grudge anyway, and he had always been quick to forgive or be the first to apologize in some dramatic way. 

There was no apologies this time, for the topic was much too sore for such shallow reparations. This morning had been their usual greetings without mention of the disagreement, falling into their norm of amiable verbal jabs at each other and somewhat friendly on the surface interactions (mostly on Hashirama’s part, of course). 

“The villagers have been inquiring about a leader for the village,” Hashirama mentioned conversationally, now mostly out of his sulking mood. 

“Hn,” Madara grunted to acknowledge the statement while he shifted the stacked books in his arms and searched for the correct subjects to slot them into. 

“And they’ve been wondering if we’re going to name the village, too,” Hashirama added thoughtfully while twirling his brush with his fingers. “I didn’t think of naming it, to be honest, with how busy we’ve been. What do you think?” 

Madara paused to pluck out a book from the middle of his stack without sending the small tower tumbling to the floor. “We choose a leader, obviously. As for the name, it doesn’t matter to me.” 

“This is a serious subject, Madara,” Hashirama whined when Madara made no further comment. 

“The leader matter takes precedence over the naming,” Madara said because he knew Hashirama would keep pressing if Madara tried to ignore him. “The village has only existed for a little over six months, and it’s not like we need a name right away because we’re supposed to be a _hidden_ village, not spreading fame throughout the country.” 

“A hidden village!” Hashirama exclaimed excitedly, completely ignoring the rest of Madara’s words. “That sounds so mysterious. Perfect for a village of shinobi, eh, Madara?” 

Madara rolled his eyes while he stuffed a couple more books into the shelf. It looked like they’d need another soon, with how jam packed this one was getting. He’d have Hashirama make a new one for them with how handy the mokuton was for building material. They didn’t even need to cut down many trees outside of the village when trees could be grown within a handy distance. There was even a designated area for Hashirama to grow trees whenever the current supply was used up. _Truly a God of Shinobi_ , he thought with heavy sarcasm, _a title much too grand for this excitable idiot._  

A light knock sounded at the door. 

“Come in!” Hashirama called. 

The door opened to reveal the head of the Sarutobi clan. He was several years older than both Hashirama and Madara, a skilled shinobi renowned for his exceptional talent and leadership. 

“Sasuke,” Hashirama greeted jovially. “It’s good to see you. How is little Hiruzen? He’s not here with you today?” 

“My wife took him to the playground today,” Sasuke said, stepping into the room and returning Hashirama’s smile with his own crooked grin. “Seems he made a new friend yesterday and was excited to see him again. A boy from the Shimura clan, I think.” 

The man was just as friendly as Hashirama, but he was notably more sharp-witted. He sported worn, dull brown armor, slicked-back brown hair held back with a cloth headband, and it seemed he’d trimmed his extended goatee since the last time Madara had seen him a few days ago. Madara had been expecting him, though, so he set down the stack of books on his desk and picked up the mission scroll lying on it. 

“The messages only need to be delivered,” Madara said, tossing the scroll to the Sarutobi leader. 

Sasuke caught it with ease and nodded. “We’ll be back within a week.” 

There were several missives sealed in the single scroll. Sasuke was the leader of this three-man cell, all consisting of shinobi from different clans in Hashirama’s bid to have clans learn to work together, on a mission to seek scattered shinobi clans who could be potential allies. It was dangerous considering many clans were still hostile to outsiders, but most were willing to receive them to avoid the incurring village’s displeasure. Besides, a shinobi as well known as Sasuke would have them thinking twice about attacking. 

“I’m off, then,” Sasuke said, waving as he turned and exited. 

“Good luck!” Hashirama called after him before turning to Madara. “Let’s take a break, Madara. It’s almost lunchtime anyway.” 

Madara was halfway to picking up the stack of books. He paused and considered and nodded because a break _did_ sound nice. 

“Do you want to join Mito and I?” Hashirama asked. 

“No, I have other plans,” Madara said. 

“Ah, I see…” Hashirama said, and he couldn’t quite mask his pout of disappointment. Hashirama had never quite mastered hiding his emotions with how expressive he was in his words and gestures. 

Madara didn’t bother with a response because it would only spur Hashirama in his insistence. He left the office and went straight towards the Uchiha compound. 

It was busy during this time of day, many people out and about. A few homes and shops were being constructed, multiple shinobi carrying wood planks and supplies and mingling among the civilians. The playground was on the way to the compound, and as Madara passed by he noticed Sasuke’s child running and jumping onto the playground contraptions with a dark-haired boy right on his heels. Possibly the Shimura boy Sasuke had mentioned. 

“Madara-sama!” 

Madara glanced over to see Kagami waving at him from the playground. The child scrambled over the balancing beam and down the path towards his leader. Madara stopped, waiting for his young clan member to reach him. 

“Look, the slide was finished today!” the child exclaimed excitedly, pointing to said colorful slide that several children were climbing on. 

Of course, Madara knew this already since Hashirama had insisted on the playground being one of the first things to be made after homes and other necessary buildings were built. He’d overlooked the plans with Hashirama not too long ago, and the final touches should be completed this week. 

“I see,” Madara said, indulging the boy’s enthusiasm. “Have you tried it out yet?” 

“Nope! I’m waiting for dad because he said he’d slide with me when the slide was done,” Kagami said, shaking his head vigorously enough that his curls bounced in fluffy waves on his head. 

“You might be waiting for a while, then,” Madara mentioned, knowing that Yakumi wasn’t due back from guarding the hidden compound until the end of this week. 

“That’s ok,” Kagami said, grinning sunnily up at Madara. “I can wait!” 

His patience was a bit startling considering that the children were all having a grand time on the new slide. Madara’s lips curved slightly at the boy’s maturity, and he patted Kagami’s head, mussing up the messy curls even more. Kagami giggled, reaching up to grab Madara’s hand. 

“Do you want to play with us, Madara-sama?” he asked. 

Madara blinked at the unexpected inquiry before shaking his head. “Perhaps another time. Go back and play with your friends.” 

“Okay!” Kagami said obediently, waving as he ran back towards the playground. “See you later, Madara-sama!” 

Madara watched him go before returning to walking back to the Uchiha compound. Interactions with the child always lightened Madara’s day. He was the only child in his clan who approached him with such genuine excitement where most children tended to hang back and watch him with awe or trepidation. 

His mood soured almost immediately though, because the mention of Kagami’s father brought the issue of guard change coming up. Madara was normally present when it occurred, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the white-haired Senju with Tobirama being the bitter topic hanging unconcluded between he and Hashirama. 

At least Tobirama made himself scarce when Madara needed to make visits to the hidden compound. Madara only had so many guards who he could juggle around at the hidden compound and village who knew of the situation. With the village’s need for all able-bodied hands, Madara couldn’t afford to add more guards. Eight guards and four servants were the minimum he could leave at the hidden compound; the handful would be more than enough to guard a normal high-ranked prisoner, but Senju Tobirama wasn’t _normal_ by any means. It weighed heavily on Madara everyday knowing that he’d sent his clan members in a potential deathtrap with one who could be their cold-blooded executioner. 

Perhaps it was a good time to go back to the hidden compound after all. The next shift of guards and servants were already aware of the upcoming shift change in two days time, and as Madara strode down the paths leading to the Uchiha compound, his sour mood shifted into one of grim contemplation. 

Once Hikaku was back, Madara intended to speak privately with him and unearth his hidden agenda. Madara was fond of him; Hikaku was like a little brother to him, but Hikaku had never been as close to Madara as he’d been with Izuna. Of all of the Uchiha, aside from the elders, Hikaku knew more of the Uchiha’s clan secrets than most standard clan members did, being closely involved with the clan head’s main family and all. 

Aside from that, Madara had been notified of a report from Inabi just received an hour ago. He hadn’t had time to read it yet with his busy schedule, and now was a good time as ever to review the report before going to the compound in a couple days.

 

**-~~o0O0o~~-**

 

“Are you a rabbit spirit?” 

Tobirama turned at the sudden question before his eyes widened at the sight of the small five-year-old standing a short distance away, big black eyes round with curiosity, head tilted slightly in question with a round cherub face soft with childish innocence. Black hair framed his face, a smudge of dirt on a chubby cheek marring pale skin. 

“Who are you?” Tobirama’s mouth moved despite his shock. He glanced down and it was _him_ but it also _wasn’t_. A small body dressed in a thin white sleeping yukata sitting in the shelter of slender branches above, little hands that were _his_ but _not_ clutching a handful of magnolia blossom petals that were scattered in a layer of delicate pink around him. 

The black-haired child smiled a familiar, dear, _untainted_ smile. “I’m Izuna! But I can’t tell you my last name. My big brother said I can’t.” 

The petals fluttered from his hands as he stood and brushed off his yukata. Tobirama knew the next words, the surreal scene playing like a faded memory before him through his own eyes as a five-year-old. He knew every detail of the ancient magnolia tree, the blossoms luminescent in the bright glow of the full moon above, the blanket of petals beneath the tree like a circular border keeping him contained from the child outside. A fateful night when he’d stolen out of his compound to his favorite spot when he wanted some time to himself after spending the day caring for his two baby brothers, his father too busy training Hashirama to care for an infant, toddler, and five-year-old child too young to send out to the battlefield yet. 

“...My name is Tobirama. I’m not a rabbit spirit.” 

A dream. It had to be. Izuna was dead. _Dead_. 

By his own hands. 

But Tobirama was immobile in the body, _his_ body. When he was five. When he met Uchiha Izuna for the first time. He knew what would happen next. He couldn’t close his eyes even if he wanted to. 

“Really? Mama told me the story about the rabbit spirit that lives on the moon. She said it was white and had red eyes,” Izuna said, walking closer to curiously examine Tobirama’s own white hair and red eyes, feet stopping just at the border of petals. “Are you _sure_ you’re not the rabbit spirit?” 

“I’m not,” Tobirama denied, mouth moving despite his wishes to not speak, not _remember_. 

“But you look just like the rabbit spirit in Mama’s story!” Izuna insisted, chubby cheeks puffing out in stubborn denial. “I won’t tell anyone I met you! I promise. You can’t tell anyone you sneaked from your home on the moon, right?” 

A familiar wisp of exasperation before it was gone. 

“I’m not a rabbit spirit,” Tobirama said yet again. “And I don’t live on the moon.” 

But Izuna was not listening, dark eyes lighting gleefully. “Can we meet again, Mr. Rabbit Spirit? I have to go home before my dad sees I’m gone because he says I can’t go out at night but Mama said the rabbit spirit lived on the moon and it was so big tonight that I _knew_ I would meet the rabbit spirit! See? I did!” 

Before Tobirama could get another word in, the little child was off, waving his hand furiously and calling back about meeting here again and bringing rice cake. Tobirama watched him go, five-year-old him bewildered by the odd encounter and current Tobirama unable to look away. 

 _“Stop,”_ he said softly, firmly, but his will had no meaning here. _“It’s a dream. A dream…”_  

 _A dream…_  

A nightmare. 

Tobirama woke abruptly, heart pounding and sleeping clothes damp with sweat, staring up at the ceiling with the dim room filtered by gentle rays of moonlight through the window, the image of a dirt-smudged five-year-old with big black eyes and an innocent curiosity burned into his mind. 

Sighing, he slowly sat up and pressed the heels of his palms against his tired eyes, ignoring how his hands held the slightest tremble to them. 

“Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself. 

It had been a long time since he’d dreamed — had a nightmare — about the past. He couldn’t help but remember his next actions the following night, all those years ago. Against his better judgement, a child who had yet to delve into the true nightmare of a battlefield, he’d gone back to the magnolia tree to find Izuna waiting for him, nose and cheeks red from the chilly night, with a box of squashed rice cakes and a grin that lighted his face brighter than the moonlight. 

Sometimes Tobirama wondered about if he’d never returned to that place, but it was a thought that he never lingered on too long. What’s done has been done, and there’s nothing that can be done about it now. 

A foolish and naive child he’d been back then, one who had yet to meet an Uchiha. Even at that age, he’d been aware of the rivalry between the Senju and Uchiha, but it hadn’t been until he turned six when he’d been thrust onto a bloody battlefield and found true horror for the first time. No amount of training or precautions could have prepared _any_ child for _that_ , but again, it wasn’t something Tobirama thought too much about. Whatever the case was, he’d survived to adulthood through his own means— 

 _—even if it meant one survived and the other hadn’t—_  

Tobirama firmly pushed the dream away and stood. He wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon despite it being hours before dawn. The night guards kept a strict lookout around the perimeter of the compound. They were used to Tobirama’s odd hours by now, so when he emerged from the main building to the gardens after he washed his face with cold water and dressed himself in his usual casual clothes, they merely glanced at him with swift perusal before returning to their duties. 

Tobirama sat in the lotus position in his usual spot and closed his eyes. Meditation would calm him. He sought out Hashirama’s chakra signature immediately after clearing through the seals, sensing his brother still fast asleep and undisturbed next to his wife. Tobirama’s body gradually relaxed fully, the tremble of his hands ceasing as he assured himself of Hashirama’s warm, familiar, and safe chakra signature before moving on to the rest of the village. 

The village was quiet in these early hours, just a few up and about. Tobirama didn’t linger long on any one chakra signature. This time he didn’t bother observing the pull of dark chakra in the sea of Uchiha, for the dream was too recent, too raw, to test the fragility he’d discovered these past few days. 

The days admittedly hadn’t been unpleasant. In fact, Tobirama rather enjoyed the sparring sessions between Hikaku, Yakumi, and Tekka. It tested his skills and also kept him primed after months of inactiveness. Naori was the one who indulged in conversation where the other three preferred sparring. She was an intelligent woman and was pleasant to conversate with. 

But...it was Hikaku who Tobirama still couldn’t figure out. It had been only three days since the man had first initiated the spars, but each and every time Hikaku didn’t fall into his usual combat expertise he was most comfortable in that Tobirama had knowledge of after years of warfare fighting the same foes over and over. Rather, Hikaku projected _Izuna’s_ combat style and abilities. Of course, Hikaku couldn’t match Izuna perfectly without the natural prowess that Izuna had, but his Sharingan enabled him to copy Izuna’s exact grace and reactions Tobirama would have expected from...well, Izuna. 

Hikaku was doing it purposely, but Tobirama had yet to figure out the other man’s intentions. Using Izuna’s style of fighting was detrimental to Hikaku who had yet to win a spar mainly because Tobirama knew how to counter the familiar patterns he’d fought against for the majority of his life and Hikaku couldn’t quite utilize skills he didn’t have to counter back. 

Whatever the man’s intentions were, they were, Tobirama admitted reluctantly, drawing a response from whatever hidden crevices Tobirama had shoved his memories of Izuna in. The dream/nightmare was a prime example, a rather prominent one that he wouldn’t ever let Hikaku know of. Some things were just too private to share, not that Tobirama shared much of anything about himself to others. Aside from that, Tobirama suspected that Hikaku _knew_ about those meetings from so long ago. Whatever Hikaku was trying to discover, Tobirama had no intention of letting the past affect his decisions now. 

It was a terrible weakness, this fragility that he hadn’t realized was still so obtrusive inside him. 

 _The dead are dead,_ he told himself firmly. _They cannot affect anything now._  

Words that had placated the Uchiha days ago did little for him now — words that they did not know Tobirama had been telling himself over and over, and sometimes Tobirama didn’t think _he_ believed them anymore than they did. It was the dead who fueled the grudges, the precious lives lost that continued death and vengeance for hundreds of years. And it was the living who did the bidding of the dead. 

Tobirama exhaled deeply and slowly opened his eyes. No matter the recent changes of events, there was a heaviness that sat over his chest, growing steadily where he’d had it contained and put aside until now. 

Perhaps it was he himself who did the bidding of the dead the most, Tobirama mused as he turned his head upon noticing an approaching chakra signature he was now becoming familiar with. 

“You are up early, Tobirama-kun,” Naori mentioned as she paused a couple feet away, respectful of his preferred physical distance from others. 

“Mm,” Tobirama murmured noncommittally while he stood. Time had flown by while he contemplated. It was already dawn, the other guards awake and servants preparing breakfast. 

Naori was the only one who joined him for meals as of late. Yakumi may not be hostile with him any longer, but he still held a cautious distance unless sparring. Tobirama didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t as if one would become so friendly right away with someone he’d considered an enemy not too long ago. 

“Please join me for breakfast when you are ready,” Naori invited. 

Tobirama tilted his head, hearing the unasked request. Naori wanted to talk out of earshot of the guards watching them. 

“Now is fine,” Tobirama said, both of them walking back to the main building. 

They sat at the chabudai table across from each other. Naori had been including fish ever since their first breakfast together. He provided vegetables from his little vegetable patch, not intending to have her cater to him nor take advantage of the guard’s and servant’s supplies despite her insistence in providing him a meal and hot tea. Tobirama had taken to making dinner for them just recently (Yakumi had participated in one dinner just last night having been caught a hold of by the collar by Naori before he could make an escape). He wasn’t an exceptional cook by any means but Naori seemed to like his simple and nutritional meals. 

Today’s breakfast consisted of excellently seasoned grilled fish, rice with small sheets of nori on the side, raw eggs, cold tofu, miso soup, and natto. A cup of pleasantly fragrant jasmine tea was placed next to the meal. It was growing a little more extravagant by day, and Tobirama suspected Naori was attempting to fatten him up considering she’d just made a monotone comment a couple days ago insinuating he was rather scrawny when he’d taken off his shirt after a particularly sweat-worthy spar. Tobirama preferred _lithe_ at the very least. He wasn’t reliant on inhuman strength like Hashirama and Madara, and he’d trained his body to suit him perfectly for his speed-based fighting style. He was, in fact, very healthy no matter what Naori might believe. 

She spooned him a rather large helping of rice that he was sure would have him bloated from the generosity, but he accepted it nevertheless and picked up his chopsticks. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Naori spoke. 

“You’ve been disturbed as of late,” she said as she stirred her miso soup to cool it down. 

Tobirama paused in folding a bit of rice into a nori sheet, glancing up at her. He’d figured out she was a sensor as well, just in the way she observed others and was sensitive to changing moods from her clansmen. Sometimes when she stared at him for too long, he got the sense she was trying to figure out his own well-hidden emotions. Most people, aside from Hashirama and Tōka, couldn’t read him unless he wanted them to. 

But… 

“Is it Hikaku-kun?” Naori asked, right to the point which Tobirama appreciated because he disliked those who danced around the subject. 

“Why do you ask?” Tobirama said mildly. 

“He’s copying Izuna-kun’s fighting style,” she said without hesitation, gazing at him from under her lashes with a piercing stare that hit that abhorrent fragility right in the center. 

Tobirama very carefully did not react. 

“He has,” he agreed coolly. 

“Izuna-kun was your rival,” Naori said, placing the miso bowl down and folding her hands politely in her lap. 

“He was,” Tobirama agreed in the same tone as before. He carefully placed his chopsticks over his own bowl and mimicked her movement, but for him it was to hide the slight tremble of his hands he’d calmed just hours before. He clenched them into fists and forced them to cease the deplorable weakness without his consent. 

 _The dead are dead. They cannot affect anything now,_ he repeated in his mind, perhaps with a tad of desperation because his chest felt uncomfortably tight and he couldn’t help but remember the flash of a cherub face with a grin brighter than moonlight and the sweet scent of magnolia blossoms, the crisp evening chill of late-night secret meetings and the taste of rice cakes on his tongue. He hadn’t touched a single rice cake since childhood. His hands were white-knuckled, hidden from view, but somehow he felt like Naori could see right through the table like she had the Byakugan rather than the Sharingan even though her eyes were still black and looking at his face. 

She studied him for a moment before picking up an egg and delicately cracking it over her rice bowl. 

“I apologize if I upset you,” she said softly, eyes on her bowl as she mixed the egg with the rice. 

Tobirama slowly unclenched his fists, face still unreadable. He wasn’t hungry at all, his stomach twisting and clenching. He picked up the cup of tea, the thing that would least upset his stomach right now, and sipped it without responding to her apology. He didn’t have a right to be upset because Izuna had been a part of her clan, and neither did he have a right to accept an unneeded apology. 

If anything, Tobirama appreciated that she didn’t pry for more. She never tried to, and she seemed lost in her own thoughts. Tobirama reminded himself that he was trying to establish a bridge between the clans now. He wasn’t a coward, and he recognized what she was trying to do. It was his own weakness that was holding him back from reciprocating her offer to talk. Perhaps they could solidify the bridge more through the wrongdoings of the past and gain familiar ground. 

“Were you close to him?” Tobirama asked before his weakness could get the better of him. 

She looked back up, blinking in surprise at the question but there was a hint of relaxation in the previous tenseness that had arisen. 

“My younger brothers were around his and Madara-sama’s ages,” she said. “They played and trained with them sometimes when Tajima-sama wasn’t training Izuna-kun and Madara-sama. Tajima-sama trained Madara-sama more often as he was successor, so Izuna-kun and his younger brothers were often playing with any child available. My older sister and I watched over them more than we played with them.” 

Tobirama nodded thoughtfully, tearing off a bit of the fish with his chopsticks. Izuna, even back then, had been unduly friendly before he’d become affected by war. A child too trusting who had risen to be renowned as a merciless defender of his clan. A year of foolish childish indulgence that Tobirama kept tightly locked in his heart before they’d both been thrust into the battlefield and learned to fight for ancient grudges that had become their own. Even so, no matter how tainted that smile had become, Izuna still had held that thread of trust when he’d signal for Tobirama to meet under the magnolia tree after a particularly arduous battle. 

“Hikaku-kun was closest to Izuna-kun,” Naori said while Tobirama firmly decided not to delve too deeply into his memories. “I was never particularly close to Izuna-kun, but my second youngest brother was. Those three were inseparable when they were together...but my brother was not as talented as them. He was never on the frontlines with Izuna-kun or Hikaku-kun.” 

She fell silent for a moment, a shadow of sadness falling over her features. Tobirama waited patiently. 

“After my brother died...Izuna-kun and Hikaku-kun became more protective of the children sent out to the battlefield. Izuna-kun and Madara-sama were the only ones of their brothers remaining, and they butted heads with their father often about sending children out to war. In the end, they could do nothing about it until Madara-sama became clan head...and then two years later…” 

 _Izuna died._ Neither said it, but the unspoken words hung heavy between them. Still, even though he didn’t want to ask, he _had_ to. A burning need that remained unsatisfied for two years afterwards. 

“...Did he suffer when he passed?” Tobirama asked quietly. 

Naori bowed her head, staring into her lap. “I’m sorry; I do not know. Madara-sama barred anyone from seeing his last moments in his grief...but Hikaku-kun was the only one besides Madara-sama to see Izuna-kun.” 

Tobirama remained silent, unsurprised by this. The wound Izuna had received had been fatal, but it would have taken days for him to die. Either from blood loss or infection, there was nothing the Uchiha could have done to prevent it without a skilled healer. Tobirama had known it the moment his sword had sliced through armor and flesh, ripping through vital organs and taking a life that was never meant to be taken. 

“Hikaku-kun changed and became withdrawn. He never mentioned Izuna-kun again...but when I saw him sparring with you, I felt he had a change within him,” Naori said, looking back up with an earnest expression. “I feel he has something he wants from you...Ever since he volunteered to guard the compound, I felt the change.” 

“He volunteered?” Tobirama echoed, surprised by the admission. 

Naori nodded. “Now more than ever, we have a chance to heal...and perhaps Hikaku-kun realized that before anyone else. When he agreed with your words that day when Yakumi-kun confronted you, I was sure of it.” 

“I see…” Tobirama murmured, recalling how, right before each spar, Hikaku would look Tobirama dead in the eyes with a determination that went deeper than a simple spar required. The only connection he had with Hikaku was Izuna. Perhaps Hikaku was using that connection to convey a hidden message, but Tobirama couldn’t be sure just yet. 

The rest of the meal was spent in contemplative silence. Naori asked no more questions, lost in her own thoughts until they began cleaning up the table. 

“Guard change will be in two days,” Naori mentioned as she balanced the stack of dishes on a tray. 

“So it is,” Tobirama said, knowing that guard change entailed Madara’s presence. Not only that, but the events going on in the compound would surely be reported by one particular Uchiha. 

“Inabi-kun only has the best intentions for our clan,” Naori said as if knowing where Tobirama’s thoughts were headed. 

“It is what it is,” Tobirama dismissed. Whatever Inabi reported to Madara, it held little difference at this point. Madara was indeed their leader, but with a clan divided and those who were becoming more receptive to the changes slowly unfurling — well, only time would tell now. Even the guards uncertain of Tobirama now wandered close to watch the sparring sessions despite Inabi’s warnings. The sparring session that would be taking place in an hour would be more of a lesson considering Yakumi had inquired about Tobirama’s impeccable chakra control he’d witnessed on the battlefield. Despite how his cold demeanor could come off as, Tobirama did indeed enjoy teaching, and while teaching those who could become enemies once more during this fragile time could be detrimental in the long run, Tobirama had already made his choice. 

In an hour, he was seated in the lotus position with Yakumi, Tekka, and Hikaku before him in the same seated position while a few curious guards watched a little ways away and Inabi glowered from one of the guard towers. 

Nevertheless, despite his odd gathering before him, Tobirama was pleased when Yakumi grinned widely when he managed to focus his chakra to a razor-sharp precision similar to a natural-born sensor’s. The man was a quick and eager learner despite Tobirama being unable to properly show him with the seals inhibiting his chakra kneading. Tekka frowned in concentration as he kneaded his own chakra while Tobirama guided him through patient explanations, and Hikaku, who was already proficient at this, watched it all with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Tobirama wondered what Izuna would have thought if he’d been alive to see this, before Izuna had become corrupted by hopelessness and war and still believed that they could make a difference if only they tried.


End file.
